Forbidden
by catching.thebutterfly
Summary: Bella is the troubled student, Edward is the teacher who notices and forbidden love blossoms. The story is AU, AH and is OOC. Cannon pairings and rated M for some difficult subject matter and adult themes.
1. Daddy

**Daddy**

**Disclaimer ONE: I am not Stephanie Meyer, nor do I own any of her characters. But I wish I did. They're awesome.**

**Disclaimer TWO: My mother thinks that this entire concept is ridiculous, but she hasn't even read my writing before so hey, I would rather know what you think. So I am going to tell you that this has some themes included that are not for the faint hearted.**

**It is rated M for a reason.**

**Just letting you guys know: I haven't written anything at all like this – it's my first fanfiction of this kind, and second altogether (I am Rebecca from the DaniBek duo). So I hope you like.**

**Also, reviews are appreciated, even PMs as long as they're constructive. Please no flames.**

**And with that outta the way – I'll try to update as much as physically possible. I can belt out a chapter in a couple of hours if I have no distractions... Like uni.**

**So if you let me know what you want, I can deliver xx**

**Alright, inspiration for this chapter – it's a combination between Sylvia Plath, Incubus and the **_**English Patient**_**. I love the rawness of Ondaatje's work.**

The alarm blares. It's six o'clock. And it's time to shuffle myself out of my comforter and into a very hot shower.

The metal taps are cold against my skin when I touch them. And I can't wait for the feeling of the searing water to capture my limp body.

This is how every morning starts.

It feels nice to wash everything away, even the invisible grime that builds up over time.

It's refreshing as I feel the imagined layers of dirt come away from my body. And I am whole and clean again.

The burning water gets underneath it all.

Steam wafts and circles around with the dim lights as I feel the burning in my hair. My shampoo lathers well as always, just like soap would as you let it pass easily between your fingers.

Then comes the body wash as I push my face under the jet of scolding water.

I let my fingers slip and slide over my skin, between my breasts, down my torso, above the wet folds of my vagina, until it too, lathers.

I have to rid everything that is unclean.

To wash it all away, like my sense of filth.

Then the soap bubbles and water slip away from my aching body as I look down to watch the slick mixture pass down into the deep unknowns of the dark drain.

And I turn the taps again, but they are warmer now.

It's time to dry and dress for school.

So I slowly guide the shower curtain away as I step all dripping wet onto the bathroom mat.

I stand there for long enough to watch the fog of the mirror fall away and reveal my reflection.

My brown eyes are bloodshot again. I must not have slept well. Then there is my ultra-pale skin that could have passed as cling-wrap over the thin flesh of my organs.

The only thing that is remotely voluminous on my body is the mahogany strands of gently curling hair that find their way to the small of my back.

Other than that, I am sickly and pale, too skinny to even look alive.

And it almost bothers me, like when I would dwell on it after reading a particular girly magazine.

But most days I don't care, like today.

So I just do the routine. Breakfast is a glass of juice only, like always. And then I'll find my bag, pack in my books, slip my shoes on and walk out the door.

That's after just shoving some clothes on and brushing my damp hair.

I really don't do much for grooming or upkeep.

Oh well, maybe in another lifetime.

I trudge the two miles in the rain to school. Forks has a way of only ever being rain and gloom. It's an odd occurrence, even a blessing if the sun shines.

Today isn't one of those days.

It's a dull, grey twenty-four solid hours.

At least within the brightly-lit corridors of the school halls, I don't realise how miserable it really is outside.

Yet again it always lingers. The sense of oppression is constant as the clouds suffocate the earth and even as I make my way, overly-early, towards my first class.

No other students are inside and I am an hour early, like always.

And still, just like every other morning, the teacher sits at his desk before the chalkboard.

I won't lie to you. He is one of the most handsome men I have ever seen.

In fact, he has starred in many of my daydreams.

He is still heavenly even when he has his nose in a student's paper, grading it.

Bent low over the papers on his desk, he has a pen in his hand that he flicks back and forth in his fidgeting fingers.

Those same pale fingers that curl around my thin hips in my nightly escapades in the dreamland.

As I walk in, he looks up from his desk.

His eyes are tired and darker today. Green irises are almost hidden behind a glorious set of lashes.

'Morning, Bella,' he smiles.

'Morning, Mr. Cullen.'

I have no energy to be upbeat this morning, nor does he.

So we resign to sit like we usually would and silently read.

Well I pretend to read as I remember that morning three months ago. We had both come to an understanding of sorts.

I had been coming to school early for the previous month, learning how to avoid particular situations at home. Little did I know at the time, but Mr. Cullen was doing the same. So we had sat together in this very room, silently going about our own separate agendas when he made the first contact.

He had looked up from his work and appraised me over the bundle of stark white papers. 'Your writing is improving.'

I then looked up too, making sure I heard him properly.

English was one of my better subjects, but I also knew there was room for improvement.

He barely managed a grin. 'I want you to submit something to publish someday.'

I shrugged, 'if you say so.'

And then he placed what I assumed to be my latest assignment on the edge of his desk.

That was his way of handing it to me.

So I stood up from where I was in the centre of the room and made the short distance to his desk.

He was still reading papers, but mine was there on the edge of the wooden desk.

There was red ink above the title. He'd given me a B.

'If you put effort in, you would outdo yourself and the rest of the class,' he said without looking up from his work.

I nodded, knowing he was right about my lack of effort.

Then I chose to sit back down and read his comments.

But his voice startled me again and I wasn't used to it. We almost never spoke in the mornings before the rest of the class would file in.

'What makes you arrive here so early, Bella?' he was looking up at me now.

I thought about the most appropriate answer.

I mean it was true. I had unconsciously taken the opportunity to meet him here at seven every morning before school. It had been a routine we had both upheld for a while. He would grade papers and I would read my books until other students would come in.

'I'm a morning person.' I had said, quietly asking more than stating, hoping that that explanation would do. Of course it wouldn't.

Mr. Cullen appraised me once again. His eyes boring into mine, just telling me that he knew what was going on in my head.

'I like to be out of the house before anyone else wakes up,' I shrugged as if to just brush it off. I wished he would just take that as the best answer.

He didn't.

'What makes you want to leave the house so early Bella?' he questioned further, ignoring the body language I was sending his way.

_No more questions, please._

I hunched over the desk I sat at. My long hair served as a shield as it hung low over my shoulders and around my face.

'No reason,' I tried to sound nonchalant.

And then I decided to ask him something.

'Why are_ you_ here so early?'

He sighed, putting his pen down and running his long hands through his dishevelled bronze hair.

'Pretty much the same reason as you.'

That was the day we made our understanding.

About ten minutes later, Mr. Cullen had pulled up a chair beside mine and whacked a bundle of playing cards on the desk.

I looked at him, startled.

'What are the terms?' he removed the glossy cards from their packaging and began shuffling.

I sat quietly for a moment, judging the situation I was in.

Deciding it was safe, I let myself smile.

'If you win, I'll answer another of your questions. If I win, you answer one of mine.'

He thought about that for a second. 'Okay then.'

So he dealt out seven cards to each of us and set the rest upside down on the wood of the desk between us.

'You go first,' he smiled at me, his eyes tired and just as bloodshot as mine.

So I quickly looked through my dealing. I had no pairs yet. So I then chose to ask him for a two.

'Go fish,' he had replied. I took a card from the stack in between us. His face then screwed up in concentration as he surveyed his bundle of playing cards.

'You got a Jack?' he then asked me, carefully watching my face. I looked through my now eight cards and found no Jack there. I shook my head, not bothering with the 'go fish'.

He picked up his next card from the middle stack, smiled, then picked two cards out of his dealing and placed them upside down on the desk nearest to him.

He had a pair already.

So I asked for a five, having absolutely no strategy yet.

He raised his eyebrows a he found the card he was looking for and handed it to me.

I couldn't help but show a little victorious smile.

Then I had one of his cards. It was still warm from his delicate touch. I fingered it gingerly, hoping he didn't notice.

His next turn had earned a 'go fish' from me and slowly my pile of pairs was overtaking his.

Eventually I won.

And yet, I swear he must have let me.

He had asked three times consecutively if I had a Queen.

But nonetheless, I felt truly victorious over my English teacher.

Well, now I was allowed one question.

So I asked him the most obvious question I had. 'How old are you?'

He sighed, smiling a little bit.

'All the ladies ask me that one.'

I waited, not feeling like responding to his humour.

'Okay, I'm twenty-four.'

I crossed my arms over my chest. He looked so much younger than that.

'You only look seventeen at the most, sir.'

He chuckled at my response. 'I know.'

Then he started dealing again.

I watched as his hands fluidly flipped the cards into three neat piles.

He handed me mine. I had no pairs again.

He did though.

And I caught myself making the connection between our ages. Mr. Cullen was six years older than me.

And I couldn't really concentrate on our game as I found myself thinking about the strangest things.

I found myself thinking about whether or not he had a family, if he had a wife or children.

And then he had won.

I cringed, knowing he would be asking me a question soon.

He took a moment to recover from his easily taken victory.

Then I watched as his emerald eyes found mine, boring into them like had before.

'Tell me what's going on,' he asked of me, no implications or accusations however.

I stopped breathing.

It was not something I spoke about, ever.

He made me feel comfortable though, as he sat back lazily in his chair. It felt like he was trying to make the air between us less tense as he parted his legs and hitched his arm up on the back of the chair.

I let out a nervous breath.

'That's not really a question Mr. Cullen.'

He didn't even move.

He just grinned, flashing a set of beautiful teeth.

'Okay then,' his eyes never deviated from mine, 'why are you here, early, every morning?'

It took me a while to respond.

'I like to avoid certain people at home.'

'Like who?'

I hunched over in my chair, he was asking too much. 'You're only allowed one question, Mr. Cullen.'

So he started shuffling the deck of cards again. He wanted to get it out of me.

Luckily, that time, I won. He might have let me, I didn't know.

'Why are you here so early, really and honestly Mr. Cullen?'

He scratched his forehead, thinking first.

Then he let out a long sigh. 'I'm not happy at home either.'

I tried to imagine what his home life was like.

I couldn't.

'Okay, I'll elaborate if you do,' Mr. Cullen had suggested.

My hunger for knowledge made the choice for me.

'Okay.'

He looked at me expectantly.

So then I decided not to make eye contact when I spoke.

'Alright,' I stuttered a little, 'I like to avoid my step father.'

Mr. Cullen thought about that for a moment.

'What's his name?' he then asked, trying to piece together any links.

I just sighed. 'James'

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

'I like to avoid my wife.'

His words had hung in the air. And I let my eyes peer at him from behind the veil that was my hair.

He wasn't looking at me, just gazing off into nothing.

The present day is just as gloomy as the one which is playing in my memory.

And suddenly Mr. Cullen has my attention.

He is smiling at me from his desk, his eyes more tired than ever.

I just smile back, now we are comfortable friends for the time being.

'Jane Eyre?' he asks about the book I have been trying to read.

'Yeah,' I reply a little more confidently than usual.

He just titters, immersing himself in his marking again.

'I prefer Wuthering Heights,' he says without looking up, still reading.

'Me too,' I reply, guarded again.

Then silence ensues.

This is how my relationship with Mr. Cullen is. He's sporadic in his conversation, but he is never rude, never harsh nor unpleasant.

He happens to be in the same predicament as I am, just under different circumstances.

We both respect that in each other.

And it's almost time for the other students to start arriving.

Sure enough, just as I the thought left my head, Jasper Whitlock comes striding through the classroom door. He's just as quiet as I am. That's why we make such good friends.

I watch him as he comes around to the desk beside mine and sits down, shoving his books and what-not onto its wooden surface.

He looks over to me, his blue eyes assessing.

'Hey, Bella'

I give him a half-hearted smile in return. 'Hey, Jasper'

We both turn to the front and watch as Mr. Cullen gets up from his seat and begins writing on the board. His neat cursive never deviates from straight lines.

And then Alice Brandon bounces in, making her way to further side of the room toward the front.

I can feel Jasper stiffen next to me.

That's when I see his eyes carefully appraise her as she unpacks her tiny backpack. She pulls out a sleek silver notebook computer.

Everybody knows she loves English and History the most. And Jasper loves her because she was just as into history as he is. Well that and her smile. And the way she walks. And her messy short hair. The list is never ending.

And now the rest of the class file in. Jessica Stanley and her huge hair, brown, almost the same colour as her skin.

Angela Webber comes in the wake of everybody else. Her tall form is not quite graceful as she takes her seat in front of me. She smiles before turning around to take out her books to copy down Mr. Cullen's notes on Sylvia Plath.

Mike Newton struts in, tries but fails to catch my gaze as he takes his regular seat in front of Jessica. I like to avoid Mike. It's his hair, I think. I don't like the short, spiky, backstreet boy look.

Once everybody is inside, Mr. Cullen clears his throat, calling the class to his attention.

'Okay,' he paces toward the desk to retrieve a weathered looking book, 'Sylvia Plath everybody. Turn to page fifty-seven of your anthologies.'

We all follow his direction and begin to read.

I notice Mr. Cullen watching me carefully. I'm used to this now. He just likes to keep an eye on me. And yet today his gaze is piercing and unrelenting. I try to ignore him, looking anywhere but his eyes.

Angela begins to read. I only catch snippets while I busy myself with avoiding Mr. Cullen's gaze.

'_I have always been scared of you, with your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo, with your neat moustache and Aryan eye, bright blue.' _

I look up at Angela, she seems unfazed.

'_Every woman adores a fascist, the boot in the face. The brute, brute heart of a brute like you...'_

Yet the words hit me like a slap in the face.

I think it is utterly beautiful, the way she uses her words to create the image of a Nazi.

'_You stand at the blackboard, Daddy, in the picture I have of you...'_

I feel a sinking feeling at the sound of it. The Nazi is her father. _Daddy._

'_But no less a devil for that, no not any less the man who bit my pretty red heart in two...'_

The sinking feeling develops into an awkward shudder. All I can feel is overwhelming revulsion.

'_I was ten when they buried you, at twenty I tried to die, to get back, back, back to you...'_

Suddenly he's there inside my head, his rough and calloused fingers hold down my thrashing legs. And Prickles break out over my thin skin.

'_I thought even the bones would do...'_

My head continues to conjure up unwanted memories of him. Of _Daddy_, as he forces me to call him. I like to forget everything as soon as it happens. But his hungry blue eyes stare at me now, licking his lips as he holds my legs still enough to work his way upwards. My stomach lurches. My chest constricts. Bile makes its way up and up.

_Daddy, Daddy, you bastard, I'm through.'_

Then my final shards of sanity are gone, escaping through the classroom door. I decide to follow them.

The bathrooms, I need the bathroom. Any of them.

And then the mixture of bile, and juice from this morning, are projecting out of my mouth and into the confines of a toilet bowl.

It takes a moment for my stomach to stop the heaving. And even longer for the taste of acid to leave my mouth. So I rinse it, carefully avoiding the person looking back at me in the mirror. I hate this person. She makes me sick to my stomach.

And there's a knocking.

I open the door to the bathroom and Mr. Cullen is standing there, his eyes downcast.

I slam the door in his face.

I knew he'd done this on purpose.

And damn the school toilets for their lack of locks.

Mr. Cullen pushes his way through. Luckily enough, I am behind a cubicle door by this time.

The locks work on these ones. So I sit down on the floor, facing the cubicle door.

He just stands there on the other side. I can see his feet from the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. I can hear his breathing hitch.

'Bella,' he calls softly.

I refuse to speak.

'I'm sorry,' he says sincerely. But it's going to take more than that.

'Please come out.'

I don't move an inch.

He huffs and I can just imagine him gripping his hair in frustration.

'I had no idea that would happen,' he is still apologising.

'Just leave me alone,' I breathe out a long gust of air.

'I can't,' he starts pushing on the cubicle door, 'I need you to open up to me.'

I snort now. 'Why should I open up to you?'

'Because I know something's not right.'

'What's it to you if there is?' I snap at him. He deserves it.

I can hear him push on the door. The lock starts to strain under the pressure.

'Bella please,' he almost begs.

'No, just leave me alone.'

The door makes an awful snapping noise as he shoves it roughly. It breaks away from its hinges and Mr. Cullen opens it to find me sitting on the ground in front of the toilet.

This makes him smile, but only slightly.

'I told you to leave me alone,' I snap again.

He refuses to move, his eyes assessing the red rings around mine.

And suddenly, he holds out a hand for me to grab onto.

I briefly think about taking it, but decide against it.

'No.' I try to avoid his eyes again. It is only just barely working.

So he sits down, mimicking my position. Now we are eye level.

'Do you want me to tell you something?' he asks now, his eyes hopeful.

I don't speak, but rather look up, utterly defeated.

'Right,' he braces himself, 'My favourite part of the day is when we both sit in that classroom together.'

I blink and look downward, toward the floor. I don't want him to see that he's breaking open my tough shell. Yet he continues.

'Bella,' he says now, careful not to touch me, 'my marriage is falling to pieces and being the selfish man I am, I'm doing nothing to stop it. I have started questioning... questioning the way I feel about her... about Tanya.'

I look up at him now, briefly forgetting my pain to focus on his.

_Is this his way of helping my trust for him to grow?_

He tells me about his life, so he wants me to tell him about mine.

But then again, I know he's only doing this for me, to help me forget _my_ pain.

'How did you come to realise you don't love her anymore?' I find myself asking him.

I watch as he begins to avoid my gaze, shrugging.

'It was at the start of the year, when I met you.'

Silence ensues.

This is not meant to happen. It isn't just my trust he wants is it?

I stand up, confused and flustered now. The look of shock on his face is just as disconcerting. But I continue my departure nevertheless.

'Mr. Cullen, you can't say that.'

And I take me leave, careful to walk around him as he sits numbly on the bathroom floor.

He doesn't attempt to stop me, or say anything as I walk away.

I guess walking away gives me some form of control back.

**What are you thinking? Please review to let me know.**

**Okay, just a few bits you'll need to know for the next chapter:**

**Alright, Bella is being subjected to some pretty awful stuff. And it has its reasons too, I'm not the sadistic writer who loves pain. Fuck that chapter was the hardest thing I have ever had to write. Anyway, I wanted to explore some particular issues with both men and women and more so the relationship between father and daughter. James serves as an extreme who will eventually get his penance, don't get me wrong. But this is essential to the plot, especially when Charlie comes into the picture.**

**Secondly, I have the classic case of forbidden love between teacher and student. Yes, it can be seen as unrealistic to some (like my mother), but then again, I have read worse. Bella feels a lack of control and is experiencing some issues about trust. It is Edward who firstly notices that something isn't quite right with Bella, so naturally he wants to find out. It is through this that he has fallen in love with her. Bella, as you will find out in the next chapter, has her ways of dealing with the issues she faces. And yes, the way she deals with it is through Edward – you'll get what I mean.**

**So this brings us to the next chapter, which may startle you, which may confuse you. I hope it doesn't. It's where Bella lets Edward in. I'll explain more in the next update.**

**For now though, review or PM!**


	2. Foy Porter

**Foy Porter**

**The usual Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer, although it would be amazing to be. I don't own anything Twilight, just the crazy reworking of her perfect characters!**

**Okay, the inspiration for this particular chapter: Sonnet by the Verve (the best band in history), Machaut (the French poet) and Daniella.**

**There is a particular scene in this chapter that is definitely rated M, please note that it does deal with some difficult subject matter, but ultimately it isn't specific nor is it overly descriptive.**

**With that out of the way, enjoy and then let me know what you think.**

**Oh and thankyou to all who reviewed, you actually do make my day.**

I can't go home. No, I hate that place so much. I'll be damned if I go there now. Even if James is at work, I'd still rather stay away.

_Well, home might be better than here._

I highly doubt that. Nowhere is as bad as home.

No, nowhere at all.

I really need to avoid the halls. I need to avoid any area I might chance a meeting with him.

It doesn't matter anyway, he's probably still on the floor of the bathroom.

That's where I left him.

Now I feel awful.

He might not have meant what he said. Perhaps he didn't mean it the way it had come across?

Why do I do this? Why do I let my thoughts be consumed by him?

Mr. Cullen is my teacher. In no way is it okay to want to think about him. In no way is it okay to even think his name. It's not even okay to think of his piercing, green eyes.

_Damn, I will have to go home._

I can't stay here and dwell on what my English teacher has said.

So I direct my timid steps towards the school exit toward the north wing.

_Home it will be._

The rain hasn't stopped. It still pounds relentlessly against the fabric of my parka.

I still don't really want to go home.

Well, at least James will be at work.

He loved his job at the town's social services clinic. Ironic, his field of work. I know.

But it meant he wouldn't be home until six.

So I'm feeling more than reassured as I spot the driveway ahead. I could just go in and settle myself down for a little while. Then before six comes around, I will write a note to leave him and say I am at Jasper's or even Angela's.

I don't feel like going through the usual tonight. My day has been awful enough without James on my back. I will give myself a few hours to recover from the day's events before having to go home and face the music.

_That's the plan._

So as I look up, coming out of my quiet musings, I note the empty driveway and sigh.

He isn't home like I thought.

Good.

I fish for the keys in my school bag. I find them and place them inside the lock.

The house is empty, just perfect.

Yet the smell assaults my memory. I shudder.

I am determined to shrug it off and make my way to the safety of the study.

Nothing remotely uncomfortable has happened there.

It's there I secretly sleep at night.

James doesn't realise it, but every night I pull my comforter, pillow and my teddy bear - Mr. Darcy, to the torn and ripped longue that sits beside the computer desk.

The ripped fragments of the brown and orange fabric are somewhat comforting, like my only safe haven in purgatory.

And there's a picture of my mother nestled by numerous piles of paperwork on the filing cabinet beside my temporary bed.

It's my only reminder of her. The last picture of her ever taken is the most beautiful.

I was twelve when she died.

And I have been desperate to find my father ever since.

But no such luck has thus far come my way.

So I'm condemned to spend my adolescence here, with my step father.

I sit down on the lounge now, feeling the incredible weight lifted from my legs.

Perhaps I might read.

Yes, it's Jane Eyre I feel like flicking through.

So I look through my school bag and find my tattered old copy.

It looks just like the copy of Sylvia Plath's works that Mr. Cullen has.

I was going to allow myself a couple of hours reading before I would start my History assignment.

Three hours will get me to lunch time.

Three hours later, I still feel like reading. I'm almost finished anyway.

Just another hour or two will get me to the end.

It has gotten me to the end. It has taken another two hours, and yet I want to continue escaping into other people's worlds.

But whilst contemplating picking up another book, I can hear a car pull up outside.

It's only three, so James should still be a work. But Mr. Cullen would be finishing up at school.

Perhaps it isn't either.

But my stomach starts it's heaving again. My breath quickens. The constant beating of my heart rises as though the blood-red organ is lodged in my throat.

And two possible scenarios are flitting through my head.

Firstly, this could be Mr. Cullen coming to check on me. I mean, everyone knew where everyone lived in this little town.

Or it could be James.

I don't know which of the two I dread more.

But I know that I would rather Mr. Cullen's presence over that of James.

Sure enough, it's the latter who stumbles over the threshold of the front door. I briefly think about hiding. Would the space under the desk here in the study do, perhaps?

Well we are about to find out.

As he seems to be stumbling up the staircase, I smell the distinct scent of rum follow in his wake.

I can see from the tiny crack in the wood of the desk as he passes by the study door.

My heart slows its uncontrollable beating. He isn't coming in here. Rather I can follow the sound of his footsteps as he opens his bedroom door.

I can hear him shuffling around. Perhaps he is rummaging through clothes.

I let my breathing settle.

He won't be in here today. He'll just pass out drunk on his bed.

But I hear a violent crack as his door is forced open too quickly.

My breathing hikes. I can feel that damned organ lodge in my throat again. It's just too much.

I try to control my loud breathing as James passes by the study again.

This time he stops, caught off guard by something in here.

My school bag is still sitting on the floor by the lounge.

I can see his smile form from where I am curled up hidden under the desk. The crack in the wooden article is only wide enough to see his upper body.

He walks inside the room now.

I abruptly stop my breathing.

_He cannot find me._ I start chanting to myself. _He cannot find me._

'Bella,' his voice is low, quiet, yet mixed with menace as he approaches the desk.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

_He will not find me._

The creaking of the cupboards can be heard as he thrusts them open.

I squeeze my eyes shut even harder.

_He will not find me._

I note the sound of each individual footstep he takes.

'Bella,' he almost whispers again, 'Daddy's home.'

The bile again. I start gripping the roots of my hair. It has no effect. The acidic liquid forces its way up again.

'Won't you come and play?' he lets a little laugh play around his words.

My salivary glands work in overdrive.

And my jaw is forcing itself open without any command from my brain.

'Bella, I know you're in here.'

I will the bile and saliva away.

_He will not find me._

I open my eyes.

And he has found me.

James stands there, a revolting smirk dancing around his chapped lips.

I shudder at the sight of him.

'There you are.'

I need him to stop talking. Christ, I need him to leave me the fuck alone.

But my mouth and mind aren't in sync. Whatever my brain willed my lips to do, nothing was responding.

Even as my head was screaming at my limp body to move, to run, nothing would register.

Instead I force myself away into the place I always went.

James hadn't even touched me yet and I was already blocking him out.

So when he grabs my wrists and roughly shoves me out from under the desk, I pretend I can feel another's hands gently pull me to them. Almost romantic it feels in my imagination.

And when James thrusts me down onto the longue, the only place that hadn't been violated yet, I imagine it's someone else playfully pushing me down onto its frayed surface.

Instead of James' dirty blonde hair falling limply over his unshaven face, I see clean - yet messy, bronze hair surrounding a soft and smooth face.

When James looks at me with his hungry blue eyes, I pretend I can see the glorious green irises of Mr. Cullen.

That's enough to keep me away from the shocking reality of what my step father is actually doing to me.

For now anyway.

So when James is done and spent, I pretend it's Mr. Cullen who lays limply on me, saying the same thing every time.

'_I love you, Bella,' _I imagine it pour forth from Mr. Cullen's lips.

But I cannot completely block out James' voice.

'I promise there will be one day when I make you come.'

There isn't much I can do.

I can't focus on Mr. Cullen any more.

So I push James off me, determined to get away.

The bile rises again, it threatens to spill forth like the marking James has left on the now useless lounge he lays upon.

I will have to find somewhere else to sleep.

I can feel his calloused hands reach for mine as I skirt away too quickly for him.

The advantages of running from a drunk are endless.

Well I have to have a positive mind frame in these particular moments.

The question is: where am I to go now?

I can't go to Angela.

I can't go to Jasper.

I can't stay here either.

I make the unconscious decision to just let my feet take me wherever my body needs to go.

And without any input from my brain, my feet have somehow guided me to a door.

I know this rectangular shape of wood quite well.

It's standing ajar, only a little bit of light seeping through.

He is inside like I knew he might be.

I push the door open to find Mr. Cullen boring over more papers.

He looks just as tired as I probably do, but more handsome than ever.

And he has no idea just how much I rely on him.

The sound of my movement travels to his ears and he looks up.

I don't know whether or not to smile. So I settle for standing awkwardly, clasping my arms around my chest.

I watch him closely. He makes no acknowledgement of my presence, other than the way he looks at me.

It's sad almost, the way he watches me with misery in his eyes.

I know he knows something. It's just uncomfortable having _him_ of all people realise that something isn't quite right.

What if he knows about _everything_?

My sharp intake of breath startles him.

And I note how he slowly swivels his chair to face me. His long legs are bent as he sits.

I bite my lower lip in trepidation.

_What if he doesn't want me here? _

I toy with the notion as he continues staring blatantly. Perhaps he was considering his reaction to me standing here.

But just as I begin to feel the need to turn around and leave, Mr. Cullen clears his throat.

'I really am sorry, Bella,' his voice was hurt as he spoke, 'I shouldn't have chosen that particular poem today.'

I bit my lower lip, suddenly remembering the stunt he had pulled earlier.

In truth, it hasn't crossed my mind since I encountered James at home.

So to insist he was forgiven, I nod timidly, still standing where I am at the door.

He breathes a heavy breath out through his nose.

And while we each face each other in the empty classroom, I cannot fathom what move to make next.

_What happens now?_

So I will leave it to Mr. Cullen.

'I meant what I said earlier Bella,' he says so quietly it could almost be a whisper.

I find his eyes now, curious. And the expression on my face pushes him further.

'I don't know how to explain it to you,' he starts shaking his head, the gorgeous strands of glossy bronze hair shifting with the movement.

I make a step closer to him, willing him to elaborate.

So he does, careful to avoid my gaze.

'Everything about you just hits me harder than anyone else,' he sighs now, 'you're hair, you're many different expressions, you're writing.' He gestures to a paper on top of all the others.

I let him continue.

'You're voice and the way you speak,' he closes his eyes now, seeming to revel in his memories, 'the way you tap your foot to the same rhythm that I flick my pen when we read together...'

My eyes open wide in shock. I didn't realise I did that.

'...I am entranced by the way you smile. I even get anxious and upset when you smile at anyone else but me. Especially Jasper Whitlock, don't even get me started on how much I hate that.'

This entire time I find myself unable to move. I cannot feel my fingers, or even breathe properly as my English teacher professes his love for his favourite student.

'...and the way you smell.'

He let that last part linger in the air around us.

I notice how he chooses to avoid eye contact, but rather he starts pulling his hair at its roots.

It feels like he is more confused than anything.

And I desperately want to comfort him. That's just who I am. I comfort others.

So I walk four equal strides over to his hunched-over form and rest my right hand on his heaving back.

_Is he crying?_

It takes me a moment to realise that the sobs are dry.

He pulls his head up and releases his hair from the death-grip of his hands.

And then he says the one thing that both scares and relieves me.

It's something I can relate to.

'When I fuck my wife, I imagine I'm making love to you.'

The words hang in the air around us.

It hasn't shocked me. But it has taken me off guard.

Mr. Cullen refuses to look at me. Instead he nervously flicks his pen back and forth in his long fingers.

This reminds me of what he had said earlier.

_The way you tap your foot to the same rhythm that I flick my pen..._

So I'm fuelled by some unknown emotion as I gently take his face between my hands.

His skin is as smooth as I imagined it would be, clearly shaven and pale in all its glory.

I let my eyes lock with his. The emerald and chocolate dance together as I lean in toward him.

He looks surprised as I come closer, so close I can almost taste his breath on my tongue.

It's sweet, like I imagined it would be.

And without a second's hesitation, my lips touch his.

My eyes close, not from blocking him out, but from the pleasure of his touch.

_This is so wrong in so many ways. _

But I can't find it in me to stop.

I welcome, even savour, the taste on my lips as he pulls me closer.

Now I am in his lap as he sits on the chair behind his desk.

All thoughts of James escape me as Mr. Cullen's gentle hands squeeze me around the waist.

I have never been touched so softly, so passively.

I find myself making direct comparisons to the way James roughly handles me.

It was so aggressive compared to Mr. Cullen and the way he lifts his right hand to my shoulder.

He lets it rest there as he kisses my lips chastely. His lips catch mine and then let them go in a sort of rhythm.

And I have never willingly kissed a man.

But I am thoroughly enjoying every moment of this with my English teacher.

It's helping me forget certain things.

And I want more of it.

I need more.

So I open my mouth for him.

His tongue is hot when it finds mine. And I involuntarily weave my hands through his soft hair.

All I can hear is the silence of the room mixed with the quiet sounds of our kissing as he reaches up to cup my cheek in his hand.

His other hand stays firmly around my waist, keeping me balanced upon his lap.

Still, his skin feels like satin as I let him caress my face.

And I feel my eyes roll back in my head at the feeling of it.

_I can't get enough._

Then Mr. Cullen slowly pulls away to touch our foreheads together.

_It feels amazing._

I can hear his quiet voice as he speaks to me, kissing my forehead during pauses in his reciting.

'_Vous estes le vray saphir,' _his French sounds perfect to my ears, '_Qui puet tous maus garir et terminer_.'

I watch him as he pulls away from me, letting his green eyes find mine.

'_Esmeraude a resjoir_,' he took his thumb to tickling my cheek as he spoke, '_rubis pour cuers esclarcir et conforter_.'

I smile now, having no idea what he's saying and loving him all the more for it.

'_Vo parler, vo regarder, vo maintenir, font fuir et enhair et despiter_.'

He captures my lips in his and then pulls away.

'_Tout vice et tout bien cherir et desirer_.'

I chuckle now, almost in love.

'_Foy porter.._.'

He finishes with a resounding sigh.

I look into his eyes, and more happiness is there than I have ever seen before.

'Tell me,' I kiss his cheek, 'what were you saying?'

He grins now, taking my face in between both his hands.

'I was saying that you are like the one jewel which serves to lighten my days and comfort my heart,' I hold onto his shoulders, my stomach tightening and pulling me towards him, 'it's to you that I am faithful.'

And I can't help but grin as his words sink in.

'Who's the author?'

He starts lazily fingering a lock of my hair as it falls over my waist. 'A French poet called Guillaume de Machaut.'

'I really like it,' I hear myself say.

Mr. Cullen bends down to touch our lips together once again. 'Me too.'

**Okay kids, I hope you like that. Man I was so depressed as I wrote it. But then it got better towards the end. Phew. Tell me what you think. You know I won't know whether or not to continue if you don't!**

**So Bella I suppose, has her own ways of dealing with James' behaviour. I guess that she feels violated, neglected, used etc so she is almost turning to Edward if you get what I mean. Its rather complex, but I didn't want it to be a clean cut 'this is what happens' kind of story. I want it to ask its own questions and explore some of the greyer areas in life. I mean black and white tends to be a bit boring!**

**alright, for those of you who are a little confused about Bella's ability to let another person in so quickly, and albeit her teacher, just know that it is Edward who she escapes to when she is blocking James out. She is already in love with him, it just isn't as simple as saying it though. Bella's a teenager who is going through a coming of age experience where she isn't quite sure of herself, or her feelings, so she keeps it to herself - for now.**

**And for Edward. Oh dont get me started. He has his own issues yes, but my god is he flawed! Yes, he completely misses signs to Bella's sexual abuse at home, even though he does see something wrong (he assumes it's something not so drastic - bloody Edward!). Yes, he is unknowingly taking advantage of her. But in the end, he does actually love her, so what can I say? Edward is his own form of hero, anti-hero albeit.**

**if there are any questions, please don't hesitate to ask.**

**Love you long time xx REVIEW *blows kisses***


	3. Arrival of the Bee Box

**Arrival of the Bee Box**

**And I just want to THANK everyone who reviewed, alerted and favourited my story. It means the world to me to know that people like the way I write!**

**Okay, this one is inspired by none other than Sylvia Plath again (the best poet in history), Guardian Angel by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (oh how I love them!) and Daniella (my homey).**

**Just note there is no sexual abuse actually in this chapter, James is still an arsehole however - so beware! I am going to let you guys know when there is tough stuff in future okay? Schweeeeet.**

**There is a lemon, okay more like a lime (LOL, yes I did pinch that from Pastiche Pen - she is just awesome). So beware. Anyway, i know thats what most of you guys like. Ah so I shall address somethings at the end okay. Just enjoy for now.**

*******************

'_I will never let you fall._

_I'll stand up with you forever._

_I'll be there for you through it all,_

_Even if saving you sends me to heaven.'_

_~RED JUMSUIT APPARATUS~_

*******************

Mr. Cullen drops me off home.

James is passed out drunk and I watch as my English teacher's silver Volvo drives away.

It's half-past nine and I am spent. I want nothing more than bed. But where to sleep is my latest worry.

I can't sleep on the lounge in the study anymore. That's been tainted, just like every other surface in this place.

I wonder for a moment.

_Where should I sleep tonight?_

Deciding to resort to the worst, I tip-toe past the sleeping form of my step-father and make my way up the staircase towards the bathroom.

The bathtub. Yes, I can sleep there. I won't have any nightmares there.

So I pull my comforter, pillow, phone for an alarm and Mr. Darcy off my perfectly made bed and pull them into the bathroom. The bathtub is big enough for me.

So I make my nesting there.

The cold ceramic underneath me is better than the dreams I would risk having should I sleep elsewhere.

With one look out of the slightly parted door, I close my eyes and will the sleep to come.

My dreams are pleasant. Just my mind working through the day.

Mr. Cullen's face floods my memory as I remember bit by bit.

I was sitting on the wooden desk, Mr. Cullen walking aimlessly around the room.

He was doing something else though.

Yes, he was talking on his mobile phone.

_Who has rung?_

Yes, it was his wife.

_What's her name again?_

Oh, that's right. He had said it was Tanya.

I followed his lanky form as he strode between the two bookshelves in the room. My stomach tightened every time he would look up at me from his heated conversation.

He would let his eyes bore into mine.

And then he would smile.

It was as though he couldn't hear her.

I was basking in the feelings of hope, of comfort.

I didn't know if there were names for the other emotions I felt.

Mr. Cullen then hung the phone up.

He walked over to me, grasping my face between his hands.

_There is something I need to tell you_, he had said.

I just nodded, my entire body going limp under his gentle caress.

_I can't leave my wife_.

I was shocked. And the look on my face startled him. _Why not?_

He sighed, those beautiful eyes hurting.

_Her father is my boss_, he had said. His expression then softened as he appraised me.

I couldn't fathom it.

He couldn't leave his wife, because her father was his boss?

_Oh, Principal Denali._

It all made sense.

_If I left Tanya, I would be without a job. He loves her enough to ensure I would be sent packing._

His hands gripped my hips ever-so gently.

_There aren't any other schools in this town. _

I let his lips graze mine. And then his muffled words tickled me.

_How could I see you?_

I pulled back from our embrace.

So this was where we were headed...

_What would I do if I couldn't watch the way your lips move when you speak?_

I felt his fingers touch the said lips, exploring their plump texture.

_What would I do if I went even one day without seeing that mesmerising smile?_

I melted at his words.

My English teacher wouldn't leave his wife because of me.

Even if it was inadvertently so.

How had we let this happen?

_Mr. Cullen, _I spoke his name only softly. He corrected me quickly.

_Edward, _I was now to call him, _how will this work out?_

I was starting to get anxious.

_I can put up with it until you graduate, _he said with his hands in my hair and his nose nuzzling my cheek.

I tried to imagine him with his wife while I was at home studying or whatever.

I mean, would I be okay with this?

Could I handle this?

After all, Mr. Cullen – I mean, Edward - would be the one having to go through hell. He would be the one pretending. I would be the one watching him hate his life for the next couple of months.

Would I be strong enough to?

I had to stop questioning myself. Of course I could do this. For him.

With one final lurch, I was swallowed up by it all. I was going to let him in, to invade all that was me. I was going to watch him suffer and he would become the first person to know the real Bella. And all the baggage that came along with it all.

But we would start out slow for now.

So I told him one small thing. And I knew he wanted to hear it.

_Well, I can put up with it too._

I had vowed then and there to slowly let it all out.

I hoped that the world was ready for the opening of Pandora's Box. Because it would eventually come.

And just as Edward's face assaults my memory from my sleep, a searing pain shakes my lower body.

It feels like a serrated knife is slicing through my flesh.

The only thing missing is the texture of pooling blood under my body as I remember laying in the bath to sleep.

Confused and in agony, I force my eyes open.

James is hovering above me.

He has the bathroom tap on full blast as I lay asleep in the bath immersed in my sheets and pillows and hot running water.

James is burning me. Watching as I writhe in the twisted mess of sheets and fabric.

I can feel the throbbing start. My skin reacts to the boiling water immersing me.

I start to scream, the shrieks piercing. I try to force my way out of the congealing mass of searing pain.

James laughs maniacally.

'That should teach you to sleep where your bed is.'

I still can't undo the scorching mass of fabric, I am stuck.

I beg him now. _Please._

It's to no avail. He just walks away.

The water level is rising to my chin now.

I start to worry about drowning.

Or severe burns.

With one giant, lifesaving heave, I push the soaked and burning comforter from my body.

There is no change in temperature, and I feel my body cooking, boiling in the water I lay in.

_Must get out._

I will myself further.

I stand up, finally free of it and more quickly than I realise, I am into the shower.

I turn the cold tap, and let the freezing water seal my red raw skin.

The pleasure is indescribable.

Almost the same feeling when you have experienced a hot summer's day, the humidity is disgusting and the sun scorching. It's like when you walk into a cold air-conditioned room. Your skin cools right down. Jumping into the cold shower feels similar, yet so much better.

I yank off my clothing so that I am naked under the jet of freezing water.

The red raw skin is still throbbing, recovering.

I am just relieved that I found my way out.

And I should really have closed that door.

James barges in.

Burning me obviously isn't enough punishment.

So I am resigned to take all of what he dishes out.

He approaches the clear shower curtain.

My body braces for impact.

'Your mother's birthday is coming up.'

I am not expecting this.

He pushes the curtain away so there is nothing between us now.

I look at his unshaven face, utterly shocked. 'What-'

He looks saddened, gripping the bunched up shower curtain in his hard fist.

'We should do something this year... for her.'

I let my arms fold in on themselves, covering my exposed chest.

'Sure, okay.'

I watch as his eyes turn downcast, disappointed.

'Sometimes I wish she was here with me,' he grimaces, looking at me now, 'and even some days I can't even get my fix through you.'

I shiver.

'I mean, you will do for now,' he reaches out past the shower curtain to grab my face, 'but the way your mother would just... uh.'

I don't want to hear anymore.

Isn't it enough that I am submissive to him already? I don't need to hear any of that.

'James...' I start to say, hoping to end the conversation here and now.

He reaches a finger to stop my lips moving.

'You'll never be quite as good as her. The way she smelt. The way she looked at me. The way she just was. You're like a nicotine patch when I need the full effects of a cigarette. You don't fully satisfy.'

I look down, ashamed to be standing here naked while my step father rants on about everything I couldn't be.

I am like a temporary fix.

He had said it.

I'm not as good as the real thing.

'I mean, who would want you?' he spits at me, 'you're just a girl, what have you to offer anyone else?'

I feel my chest heaving at his words.

'The only thing your good for is a hasty fuck.'

He is in my face now, berating me.

And I can't believe my ears. James has said things similar, but never in direct relation to my mother. He never compares us.

I suppose today is a new low.

I look over into the mirror as he departs. My body is wasting away. I do look like a girl. Would I ever be a woman?

How can I ever be like her?

I feel the tears begin to pool behind my lashes. They fall silently as my delicate shreds of dignity waste away into nothing.

If James doesn't think I'm good enough, why would Edward?

I turn off the shower taps and make an escape to my room.

Just like every morning, Mr. Cullen is sitting at his desk.

He looks up this time to see me.

I must look like death, with my red skin poking out from under my sweater.

I don't smile either. He notices.

'Bella?' he asks from behind the desk. He stands up now, making his way over to where I stand huddled and alone by the door.

I can't decide whether or not to let the tears fall or just blink them back in a vain attempt to appear collected.

I have no choice.

Mr. Cullen wraps me in an embrace, shocking the lingering tears out of their place behind my eyelashes.

They fall, slipping and sliding over my cheeks.

I am shocked.

His voice is trembling. 'Bella, what happened?'

I shake my head, for I cannot speak at the present anyhow.

'Please tell me,' he pleads, holding me tight against his chest.

There is only one thing I need to know.

_Am I good enough?_

So I pull away from the embrace only enough to look my teacher in the eye.

No words are spoken as we silently appraise one another.

He hasn't slept well either.

I reach up to run my thumb under his eye, over the purple circles there.

I can feel him smile under my hands.

And I so desperately want to taste him.

So I lean toward him, joining both our lips and chests in our plight to find ourselves.

His lips start slow, guarded just a little.

But then he relaxes, sighing just slightly as we part for just a moment.

I look into his glorious eyes. He is trying to understand.

_Don't, _I will him silently. _Don't think about what your doing, just go with it. I need this._

I know he understands. I can read him, he can read me.

So without a second's hesistation, he ravenously devours my face.

Then he gently pushes us against the back of the door.

I am startled by the surprising lack of pain. I am so used to hurting, but it is different with Mr. Cullen.

He finds my hips, simultaneously holding them and pushing them into his own.

The friction is unbelievable.

Its careful friction, not too hard, yet not too soft.

I think that's how it is supposed to be.

I decide to play more of an active part and spread my legs for him, wrapping them around his hips.

He helps by pulling me up, sitting me perfectly between the wood of the door and the heat of his body.

_Who knew it could feel so good?_

But I don't think on that for long as my body starts reacting in strange ways.

Firstly, there is this throbbing within my lower stomach, it feels almost like a clenching and unclenching sensation.

It has me baffled.

Then next is the ever-increasing need to feel every part of his body with mine. I had a violent urge to jut my chest out and thread my finger through his gorgeous hair, just to get closer.

So I let my instincts take me.

Then as I hear his deep groaning, I feel a seeping motion working its way within my core. _Is this what I think it is?_

So I run with it.

I force my legs wider, it almost hurts. But the pleasure overcomes the pain.

The pleasure. The tension. The absolute want. It builds in the pit of my stomach as I will myself closer. How can I get closer?

He figures it out for me.

I feel my sweater being ripped off. I am there in my bra as he caresses the tender skin there. It is still red raw, but his touch is like feathers as he almost tickles me.

And I want skin on skin. For the first time, I actually want it.

So I copy him, I take his shirt off.

I let my skin find his in all its glory.

And the heat from our chests is warm as the cold morning air seeps into the room.

He continues planting feather-like kisses on my face as he works his skilful hands with my bra.

_Oh the nervous butterflies._

But when it's done, he looks back to see me properly. I smile. And he looks pleased. That's just what I need.

Then he uses a hand to gently cup one of my soft mounds, running a thumb over its sensitive peak.

I cannot help it. I cry out. Not from pain, nor from feeling uncomfortable. But from the amazing feeling it causes to shoot from my skin all the way through my blood and into the pit of my stomach.

True pleasure.

Utter bliss.

Oh, I will more of it to come.

Meeting my needs, Mr. Cullen sets me down on my feet and starts on the buttons of my jeans.

I'm so far gone that I just follow his lead.

My fingers fiddle with his top button. Then they work his zipper, pulling it downwards.

I feel my jeans as they fall to my feet. So I kick them off as his black slacks pool on the ground.

He pulls at my underwear, bringing them down my legs as he follows in their wake.

I watch him as he gently slides them off, lifting my legs to discard the black cotton from under my feet.

His head makes its way up my body, gently kissing as it goes.

I feel his warm lips touch upon my skin around my hip.

Then again around my waist, below the curve of my left breast, my shoulder and then my collarbone.

The meanwhile I thread my fingers through his bronze hair as he makes his way up my naked body.

Eventually he reaches my face, cupping my cheeks between his hands.

His eyes bore into mine, trying to work out what is weaving its way into my head.

And I think he could read it on my face.

'You're perfect.' His voice is soft, just barely a whisper. But I get his sentiment.

So I let my fingers unthread from his silky hair, only to settle on the broadness of his chest.

He smiles now, our heads a careful inch apart as he appraises my eyes still.

My eyes dart between his emerald irises and the plum of his lips.

I so desperately want to kiss them.

But there is one thing I still need to attend to. His boxers.

So without any warning, I move my hands from his warm chest and quickly pull them off.

He doesn't even flinch. It feels so natural and yet so wrong for us to be like this.

So I sigh and close my eyes, and he notices.

The next thing, I feel his head upon mine.

I open my eyes, and he's kissing the skin of my forehead.

'You're too perfect. I'm not going to be the one to ruin that.' He bends to pick up my discarded clothes.

I sigh, my body still aching. 'It's already been ruined.'

The shock of his eyes nearly leaves me breathless. I can see pain, aching and grief all mingled in the depths of those emerald orbs.

He drops the clothes and stares, bewildered. 'What?'

I may have said too much. 'It's nothing, I.. just... I'm not perfect, okay?'

He comes closer to me now, and he's back to kissing my forehead. 'Yes, you are. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise.'

Amd this one small show of affection undoes me. It is so unlike anything else from James, or even Jasper or Angela. The only person who ever kissed or spoke to me that way was my mother.

But she is dead.

Now it is my teacher. And I know it is wrong in every way, but I cannot help myself.

My eyes flutter closed at the feeling of it.

But the sensation spurs me on, willing my arms to slide around his back, holding him as close to me as possible.

I don't want to ever let him go. And he seems to realise this, for he pulls away only to look into my eyes.

'I am not doing anything here today that pleasures me in any way.' He almost whispers.

I'm confused, furrowing my eyebrows in response.

He enlightens me. 'This is for you only.'

Still confused, I just stare at him. _Since when do people do things just for the pleasure of someone else?_

I suppose I have a lot to learn.

Mr. Cullen steps closer, our bodies touching.

He pecks my lips before dropping down to pick up his boxers. He pulls them back on. I huff and attempt to cross my arms. But he stops me.

In his underwear now, he returns back to my body and kisses me gently.

He then pulls away only to survey my face. Yet he grins a cocky grin.

And then his fingers are touching me.

Massaging in circles and playing in strokes, he tickles the wetness in between my legs. I know what particular part he is touching. And I usually avoid it, especially when someone else tries touching it.

But I wanted Mr. Cullen - no Edward - to touch it.

It feels right.

His gentle thumb rubs me, and his other hand is then resting on my lower back.

And as he thrusts our bodies up against the back of the door again, I feel every inch of him. Even the one part of his body I shouldn't be feeling, or seeing.

Yet I can't even think about that as my body is starting to shake. I am not nervous. I am not scared. But I am anticipating.

He holds our chests together. Even as he grips my thigh with one hand and cups my face with the other, I want to be nearer to him.

I have never wanted to be closer to anyone before. So why would I know how?

How do you get nearer to someone when you are already touching?

The only thing I can think of at this particular point in time is opening up. That's how I can closer, at least in some way.

I will let something out for him, only him. A poem.

'_I ordered this, clean wood box,_' I start quoting Plath. He halts his already slow movements as I keep reciting.

'_Square as a chair and almost too heavy to lift_,' I spoke as I made the decision to skip a few lines. I know he knows this poem. And I know what it is doing to him. '_The box is locked it is dangerous_.' He is an english teahcer after all.

I feel his other hand rubbing circles around my lower back. It is soothing, almost causing my eyelids to flutter closed as they had earlier. I go limp from the feeling. So I gently rest my head on his shoulder. '_I have to live with it overnight, and I can't keep away from it_.'

Mr. Cullen chuckles softly, and I know he is catching on. So he holds me still as I wrap my arms around his neck. My head is still resting upon his broad shoulder. '_There are no windows so I can't see what is in there_.'

I pull away, making the move to kiss his lips, letting mine linger a moment before moving to his pale neck. I leave my soft kisses there also.

Edward starts his slow movements again. '_There is only a little grid, no exit_.'

His hands... just like...oh God. _The way they make me feel._

Those fingers are cunning, they know exactly what they are doing. They elicit just a soft murmur from my lips.

I can feel his breathing hike from under me. Now I know how I am making him feel.

'_I lay my eyes to the grid, it is dark, dark_,' I whisper between kisses. His hands are struggling, the tendons stick out from under his smooth skin.

I want more of a reaction from him.

So I continue. '_With the swarmy feeling of African hands, minute and shrunk for export, black on black and angrily clambering_.'

But he knows what I am trying to do. So he stills himself, only moving those cunning fingers.

Back and forth, up and down. My eyes roll backwards. I let out that same murmur.

And yet, there it is again. Another sound from his perfect lips. He groans this time.

'_How can I let them out_?' I whisper into his ear as he momentarily stops, gathers himself and then continues working his magic. I try murmuring again, knowing how he likes the sound. He gasps again and I can feel his eyelashes flutter closed from where they meet my cheek.

I continue to whisper in his ear, my voice trembling. '_It is the noise that appals me most of all, the unintelligible syllables._'

I am close to something, but its not close enough. I know there is a little way to go yet.

And the feeling that continues to build in my stomach is confusing me. It is as though it needs an escape. But where will it escape to?

I can't help myself when he nuzzles his cheek into my neck. I have to hold onto him. I have to feel him under my fingers. So I weave my hands through his hair again, gently pulling.

There it is again. His groan. But its mixed with other sounds.

His little noises spur on that persistent feeling in my lower gut. And I have to bite my lower lip to stop from crying out.

So I focus on my poem. And I know he likes it. '_It is like a roman mob. Taken one by one, but my God, together!_'

I hear another breathless groan. And his arms are squeezing me tighter, pushing my breasts into the softness of his chest. I am getting closer, continually closer to him.

But I continue to whisper the poem, nearing the end as I talk about bees locked up in a wooden box.

Oh how I need to set them free.

'_I wonder if they would forget me, if I just undid the locks and stood back and turned into a tree_.'

Then the gentle pressure of his thumb increases, pushing me to my limits. I cannot help it. I let out the strangest sound. A moan.

He stops his circling again, bringing a hand to my cheek as his breathing deepens in my ear. Then he starts the movement again, only the pressure is harder, his movements quicker.

'_They might... ignore me... immediately_,' I barely rasp out. I don't think I can continue for much longer, the feeling in my stomach now has spread to the rest of my body.

'_I... am no... source of honey... so why would they turn on me_?'

He flicks, he circles, he rubs.

I can feel the hairs on my arms standing on end, my pulse increasing in tempo, my eyes rolling back into my head...

I let another moan escape me as he works his hands around my body.

I grip him tighter, my finger marks leaving pink on his skin. I grip is shoulders and dig my short nails into his smooth back as his breathing becomes harder still.

I know he refuses me to touch him, but I want to. I need to.

Oh God.

I need to finish my poem. And I sense that he needs it too. Its something for us to focus on. So I wont just... reach out and... touch.

So I continue again, my voice only just audible. '_Tomorrow I will be sweet God, I will set them free_.'

I haven't a clue what is happening to me, but I must say the last line of the poem. It is crucial.

Oh, I don't know if I can.

I can't breathe properly. It is as though I cannot pull in enough oxygen.

I force my eyes open.

I want to see him.

I am so close to something.

I don't know what, though.

And his eyes find mine as we breath heavily. The oxygen is swirling around us, around our faces. But it's as though I cannot reach it. It wont be sucked in. I cannot breathe.

But I ignore the persistent need for more air. I see his emerald orbs are lidded, almost tightly shut. But he opens them wider to see me.

He breathes just as violently as I do, still gripping me tightly in our movements.

So then I lean in to catch his lips with mine. Our breathing mingles in the air around us. And there is something about the way he looks at me.

So I let out the last line of my poem, and I know I am close to something. '_The box is only temporary_.'

That undoes him. I can hear his groaning, louder than before. His noises are amplified, piercing the air about us.

And I haven't even touched him. Oh, but I want to.

His sounds elicit more of my sounds. Another moan.

My inner muscles are squirming on their own volition. They start to clamp and unclamp in these odd sensations.

It is amazing, the feeling of his struggling body as it grips on to me tighter.

And then there is this electricity that shoots its way from my folds all through my body. It passes through my skin, by the peaks of my breasts and into my forehead. My eyes are rolling backwards again.

Then my body jerks. My vision disappears behind the lids of my eyes. So I instinctively clamp my legs around his fingers.

Then I feel his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts against mine.

And there is something about the way that that feels. I cry out despite myself.

_What is happening to me?_

The feeling in my stomach seems to have reached a pinnacle. And suddenly I find myself letting his name escape my lips.

His hold around me tightens. The total lack of control stuns me. I just have to... have to _do_ something. My body jerks. My hips jut backward as my back arcs. My chest touches his. All smooth, silky and warm. Oh God.

And then the feeling starts to ebb, the throbbing taking over now. He is so soft in his movements as he pulls his arms around me in a tight hug.

I relax as he settles down to just hold me in his arms.

And I never touched him once. How can he be okay without feeling what I just did?

Because what I just felt was absolutely... amazing. I have never felt so... light.

I feel like I have let everything out.

It feels like I have ridden my body of all sorts. I feel no stress, no worry, no hurt, just nothing except for the overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around Edward as we stand together limply against the wood of the door.

I let my breathing slow before I spoke again. '_The box is only temporary_.'

And the image of a thousand odd bees swarming away from a wooden bee box flitters behind my eyelids.

I have set them free_._

**Okay peeps, what do you think? Reviews are much appreciated!**

**For those who are knowledgeable on Plath. Yes, I do realise her poem is about suicide more so than orgasming LOL. I just love the tension that the poem has, she is just sensational. Anyway, i think the poem is very vague in its meaning anyway - i think it served its purpose well though.**

**Okay for people who might be a bit confused as to how Bella can let Edward in so quickly, I mean as in sexually, just remember that she has her own way of dealing with what she is going through and Edward is a part of that. I don't think that the Bella character that I have created would necessarily feel violated from Edward's actions. I mean, he has shown her a love that she hasn't experienced from another man. So she makes the direct comparison between him and James constantly and I think that is how she can trust Edward. So she just has her own way of dealing with it.**

**I mean, I thought about it right? Would Bella necessarily act this way? But then I remembered that James' behaviour has been an on going thing for a very long time (you will find out eventually how long), so the only thing she really knows is sexual behaviour. More particularly, Bella only knows how to represent and express her difficult-to-fathom feelings through sexual acts. That doesn't mean to say that she can't express her feelings differently, she can, it will just require some growing and maturing on her part. I hope that the exposure to Edward will help her overcome this (to know that sex is an act of love).**

**Anyway, the next chapter is fair bit lighter, no tough stuff from James for a while. Hopefully not until the complication. I will let you know beforehand anyway.**

**Okay. Now to review my peeps and I'll start writing the next one. Reviews tend to make me giddy... i like them... a lot.**

**xxxx**


	4. Have Ye Beheld, With Much Delight

**Have Ye Beheld, With Much Delight**

**This is inspired by Robert Herrick and his impossibly devilish poetry, 'I Miss You' Blink 182 (it's the riff okay!), 'Dakota' by Stereophonics and Daniella (the best of my homies – i love you).**

**Okay there isn't any violence in this one. But it does give a little more insight into the relationship that is forming between Edward and Bella.**

**And I would love to thank everybody for their amazing reviews!! and also to those who alerted and favourited my little piece.**

**Okay, so there isn't any lemons, oh well, okay there is a little fluff/limeness but no lemons if we're being pedantic. (its just them being comfortable with themselves sexually, if you get me - and I dont so, dont worry ;))**

**Well, I hope you enjoy!!**

It's twilight out. The stars are blanketed by the thick cotton of the clouds as they hang overhead. And he lies beside me in the long grass.

The football oval is quite romantic at this time of night.

I have been at school all day, and as pathetic as it may sound, I don't want to leave.

And yes, my classes had passed in a swarm of colours, textures, smells and sounds.

So now I lay wrapped in the long blades of grass as Edward hums beside me.

I can't quite work out what it is he's humming. But it does sound familiar.

And I can only just make out his silhouette as he lies sprawling in the midst of all the deep green. Only the moonlight filtering through the mass of clouds illuminates his pale face. But it gives him an unearthly glow.

I look around in a daze, letting my eyes rest on his face.

His eyes are closed. And his hair is lightly ruffling in the breeze.

So I curl up on my side, still watching his peaceful form.

I place my hand in his. And then his eyes open, watching me now.

He pulls his lower lip into his mouth, wetting it and then let it go again. 'Tell me,' he starts, firmly wrapping his fingers around my hand, 'what are you thinking?'

I blink a little, ensuring my brain filter is working and then I form my words. 'Well, about the grass.'

He chuckles now, the vibrations run through our entwined hands as they rest on his chest. 'Really?'

I nod. 'I like how it tickles my skin...'

He cocks an eyebrow, and I can almost sense his mind working, the gears moving faster.

'Well, it frames our bodies like water would.'

He still has that eyebrow raised; only now he smirks.

Then he uses his free hand to tickle the skin of my nose. Those soft fingers run the length of its bridge, slipping down to push on the sensitive flesh of my lips. I feel it give under his gentle pressure.

And then the soft patter of rain can be felt.

It's only light. Not enough to warrant our departure.

'It's raining.' He states, his fingers never halting their movements as they touch the tender skin of my cheeks.

My eyes flutter closed. 'I know, but let's just stay a while.'

'Okay.'

I scoot closer, letting our bodies touch. And I want to hear more about him. 'Tell me about your wife, Tanya.'

He's silent for a moment.

'What would you like to know?' he finally says.

I think on that quickly. 'What am I up against?' I try to sound light.

He takes a careful breath. 'You know there's no competition.'

I sigh. 'I know, but still.'

I open my eyes to see him. 'At least what does she look like?'

His face is pained, refusing to look at me. 'Well everything that I used to find beautiful is nothing now. Well, at least compared to you.'

'So she is beautiful?'

He furrows his brows in concentration. 'She has her own beauty.'

And then I feel his thumb rubbing gentle circles within my palm. 'She has strawberry blonde hair.'

I nod to encourage him. 'And blue eyes, but they aren't bright... but more a deeper blue.'

He squeezes my hand, those eyes seeking out my reaction.

'She sounds pretty.'

Rolling his eyes, he laughs under his breath. 'Only you, Bella.'

'What is she like though?' I find myself asking.

He takes a moment to reply. 'Well she's a little difficult to explain.'

I raise my eyebrow. How can it be that hard?

He answers my unspoken question. 'Sometimes she is the perfect wife, you know... She is loving and caring. She cleans, cooks, paints, writes and lives normally while I work. But then...'

He trails off, contemplating what to say next.

I try to help him out a little. 'While she's perfect, you don't love her.'

He smiles a knowing smile. 'I love her in a different way, like childhood friends would love each other. But I am not in love with her in any way anymore.'

He pulls me closer, wrapping his warm arms around us as the rain comes down harder. 'She is perfect one instant, but the next she is... I don't know how to explain it...'

I don't care how long it takes him. I want him to let it all out. So I cup his cheeks with my fingers, that are now wet from the rain.

'She is manipulative and callous when she decides to be.' He finishes, holding me tighter.

It starts to get colder, but the heat from his body is keeping me warm. 'What does she do?'

He hesitates. 'I don't ever talk about this. I mean, this is the first time I have really said anything about it.'

I run my thumb over his lower lip. 'It's okay.'

His breathing is calmer, rising and falling in a steady rhythm from under me. 'About a year ago, on the night of our first anniversary, Tanya first told me of her intentions to start trying for children.'

What.

Suddenly, there's this ripping in my chest.

I can't pull in enough oxygen, but I need to.

It just doesn't seem... No, I just can't... Imagine. The thought makes my blood boil. Her carrying his child. No, I refuse to picture it.

Yet he continues. 'I told her I wasn't ready for children. I mean we were only married a year.'

I nod, not quite able to speak.

'But she threatened to anonymously tip the Education Board of an illegal affair between me and a student if I didn't share her feelings.' He looks down at me, smiling sadly.

'But I wasn't actually having an affair at that point; it was months before I met you.'

I scoff at him. 'What? So she's blackmailing you?'

He laughs, tickling my face with his hands again. 'That's only one instance.'

I think about his words. 'So what did you do?'

'I complied for the time being, just pretending to be over-the-moon about trying for a baby... Well, that was when I met you.'

My chest tightened. 'And because of me you have to stay with her and keep trying? Because in order to see me everyday you must keep your job and stay on Denali's good side right?'

I am getting just a little angry now.

He sighs. 'Yes.'

My anger is now boiling under my skin. 'You should just leave her!'

He is taken back by my newfound rage. 'I already told you that I won't while you're still here.'

'Who cares about me? She might fall pregnant and then you're stuck!'

He's angry now. '_I_ care about you Bella, and we don't have sex enough for her to fall pregnant anyway.'

I am shocked. 'It only takes one time, Edward!'

I turn away from him now, crossing my arms over my chest.

'Why do you think I'm here all the time? I am avoiding her like the plague. God, it's not like she can force me into it.' He justifies himself.

I find myself scoffing for the second time. 'Yes she can force you, she can emotionally manipulate you.'

We both lie, fuming at one another.

But then he titters breathlessly. 'The only person I want to make love to is you.'

I soften at his words. 'I know.' And I don't want to fight with him.

'Let's not argue about this.' He says, defeated.

I sigh. 'You're right.'

It's a few moments before he speaks again.

'Well we shouldn't argue when we could be doing something else entirely.' He suggests.

I turn around to playfully poke him in the chest, all my previous anger gone. 'You, sir, are treading on thin ice.'

'Sure, whatever.' He mocks. 'Look, the rain has stopped.'

We both look upwards.

'Indeed.' I reply. 'So what now Mr. Cullen?'

He chuckles. 'You make me sound so old. Stop it.'

I grin devilishly. 'But it's your name.'

'You know what my name is.'

I toy with him. 'Is it Edmund?'

He rolls his eyes. 'You're ridiculous, you do realise?'

'Nope, I'm not... But you are.'

Then I start pulling at his shirt, forcing it up over his head.

He laughs, the boundless music reaching my ears. 'It just stopped raining, it's going to be so cold.' He whines.

'Man up, Edmund.'

I hear his muffled grumbling from behind his shirt as I pull it off him. 'There, it's not so cold.'

He shivers. 'Yes, it is.'

Then he rips at my shirt and we're both shirtless and laying in the cold, damp grass.

'Edward,' I start, laying under him while he rests his chest on mine.

'Mhmm.' He murmurs.

'Tell me, what's all the teacher gossip? I mean there is bound to be something going on between Banner and Cope right?'

I feel the slight vibrations of his laughter. 'There isn't anything I know of. But there is so much to see from where I stand in your English class.'

My eyes go wide. 'In English?'

He nods. 'You should see the way Jasper Whitlock looks at Ms. Brandon.'

I roll my eyes. 'Yeah, he's been in love with her for ages.'

'Really?' He asks, amused.

'Well, it's more of a matter of whether or not he'll actually do something about it.'

Edward thinks about this for a moment. 'He won't be the one to make a move. I'm putting my bet on Alice.'

I'm stunned. 'On Alice? I mean come on, they haven't ever spoken before.'

He laughs again. 'Well, you don't see what I see.' He taps his index finger to his temple a few times.

'Pfft,' I roll my eyes again, 'aren't we the ever-confident?'

He grins, showing all his perfect teeth. 'Maybe I am.'

And with that, he rolls us over so that he is underneath, all the damp grass under his back.

'There's just one thing I need to attend to first.' He whispers in my ear now.

I raise an eyebrow. 'Like what?'

And then I feel my bra falling away from my chest.

I cluck my tongue. 'Typical.'

But Edward insists on it. 'It'll help keep us warm. You know how heat travels best through skin?'

'Yeah yeah,' I laugh, not worried anymore.

But instead, I settle into the warmth of his chest.

.

The night has fallen and darkness envelops us. And Edward keeps me close. His body is hot against mine.

I can feel the magnificent planes of his chest with each rise and fall of breath.

My fingers move on their own volition, tracing the contours around his stomach and up toward his shoulders. And he tenses when I move over certain areas. It makes me squirm just a little.

But I feel his long fingers working their way around my chest, gently kneading.

His expression is lost to the darkness, but I sense a slight smile upon his lips.

And he runs a delicate finger over a peak.

There's a rush of blood.

A primal urge and desperate want.

The air between us is warmer, as though we are in a tight little bubble.

He touches the smooth skin of my knee, hitching it back around his hips as we lay together in the damp grass. 'I love the way you feel.' He says only softly in my ear.

I sigh, enjoying his gentle caresses.

'You're just so soft.' His voice is deeper, huskier.

And he brings his lips to me now, carefully kissing my supple mounds as his hands hold me above him.

There's a delicate gasp as his name falls from my lips.

And I move so I'm straddling him.

He continues to work his lips around my peaks, occasionally rolling a sensitive spot between his thumb and forefinger.

My eyes roll backward.

I want to prolong this moment, because any time now I will have to leave, to go home to the hell that awaits me.

But for now, I am here. Here with Edward where nothing can harm me.

And there is something in knowing this. There is something in knowing that I am utterly safe with him that has me soaring.

I bring my hands around to cup his face. I hold them there, just feeling and only barely seeing.

There's a smile though.

My chest swells, bringing in all the oxygen I can get. And I smell the rain, Edward and my strawberry shampoo. What a mix.

It almost hurts as I force in every ounce of it. So I lean in, bringing in Edward's distinct smell.

Coffee and cinnamon.

And all I want is to kiss him. To taste him.

But not yet.

So I just rest my body on his and he cradles my head in the crook of his neck.

It's just so peaceful here.

'There's this poem that fits perfectly for what we're doing.' He says, his chest moving with the sound of his voice.

I look up and see his cunning smile.

Just like his cunning fingers.

'Oh?' I question.

He nods. 'By Robert Herrick, it's just one of his many poems.'

I encourage him. 'Go on.'

'_Have ye beheld, with much delight, a red rose peeping through a white?_' I try to work out what he's saying, but it doesn't seem to have much to do with what we are doing.

And he cradles one of my breasts in one of his large hands.

But he keeps on reading. '_Or else a cherry, double graced, within a lily, centre placed_?'

My brow is still furrowed. And Edward is still touching, tasting.

'_Or ever marked the pretty beam, a strawberry shows half downed in cream?_'

I'm still confused as he kisses the skin of my shoulder, still working his cunning fingers around my breasts.

'_Or seen rich rubies rushing through, a smooth pure pearl and orient too?_'

I shake my head, letting my hair dance around me. Edward leans in to inhale the scent of my strawberry shampoo as it lingers between us.

'_So like this and nay all the rest, is each neat niplet of her breast_.'

My eyes open wide. I almost start laughing.

But I am shocked. 'You just recited a whole poem about my nipples?'

He laughs, the bell-like sound bounding around us. 'Yes, I did.'

I look down to my chest. 'A red rose peeping through white?'

Now I laugh, I get it all now. 'You have got to be kidding me.'

'No, I thought it fit perfectly, don't you?' he rubs it in.

I huff. 'Well, aren't you just smart?'

'Yeah, I suppose I am.'

I roll my eyes.

'Come on, I'd better get you home.' He says, pulling me up and attempting to put my bra back on for me.

I push his hands away, laughing. 'Okay.'

At least I have another twenty minutes or so with him. I can't let myself get down just yet.

.

I love Edward's car. It smells brand new for some reason.

But still, the smooth leather and gentle purr of the engine feels so good under me.

He holds my hand just on top of the middle console.

And his skin is unbelievably soft as he circles his thumb within my palm. I think it's the rain. It always makes my skin softer.

And I watch as the streetlights flash past.

He decides to speak. 'You look really tired all the time.'

I shrug. 'I have been a little better lately.'

Silence.

'I mean, I have been feeling a little more awake lately.'

He groans. 'But have you been sleeping?'

I shake my head. 'No, I find it hard.'

'Why?'

I search for the right words. 'I have nightmares sometimes. Not all the time, just sometimes and they keep me up at night.'

He sighs. 'I think I know what you mean.'

I look over to him, watching him as he keeps his eyes trained on the road.

'I don't have nightmares, but I cannot sleep at home for some reason. Sometimes I sleep better in my car.'

I turn around and take a peek into the back seat. No pillow.

'Where's your pillow?' I ask, trying to imagine him sleeping in here.

He chuckles. 'I keep it in the trunk.'

'Oh.'

He fiddles with something in his pocket. 'Look, I don't think you'll ever need to use them, but just in case you can't sleep...'

And he hands me some form of pills.

'They're the sleeping pills I use when I can't sleep. They aren't too heavy.'

I finger the label. 'Where'd you get them from?'

He looks over to me and raises an eyebrow. 'My father is a doctor.'

'Oh right.'

I sigh. 'I probably won't ever use them. I mean, I don't like putting chemicals into my body.'

He grins. 'Well, just in case, because I know how hard it can get. But, take only one at a time.'

I nod. 'Yeah, thank you anyway.'

I pocket them just in case. 'Maybe I'll need them one day.'

'You might.' He agrees.

And then he is pulled up in front of James beat up old ford. 'I'll see you tomorrow?'

He grins, flashing his gorgeous smile. 'Definitely. Oh and Bella, I am not going to be there after school tomorrow. I have my brother's wedding planning and what-not to attend to.'

I look over to his still form as he sits comfortably in the driver's seat.

'You're brother?'

He leans in toward me, his face hinting hilarity. 'My little brother is getting married, I know.'

I feel his breath tickle my face as he softly touches his lips to mine.

And then he pulls away, just opening his eyes as I open mine.

Ah, he tastes so good.

'Goodnight Bella.'

I give him a huge smile. 'Good night, Edward.'

And then I leave his car and walk into the front porch of James' place.

I can hear the television on inside.

And I wave as Edward's car slowly drives away.

**Okay, so what did you think? Should I stick to less dialogue and more describing feelings etc, or is this good? I dunno, seriously, I take in all the advice and just go with it. I know it wasn't as intense as my previous chapters, but I think I needed to give you - and my brain, a little of a rest from all the tough stuff. The next chapter is mostly a plot prodder and I have it almost finished. So it'll be ready for posting this time tomorrow. Woah. Gosh. **

**oh and about the sleeping pills. I have a feeling some can guess what they will be used for. Please, by all means let me know what you think! LOL, i think bella is very...sly about it when it will come to using them.**

**Okay, so reviews are much appreciated. Especially if you're reading and not telling me what you think! I am totally open to suggestions too! Bring it peeps.**

**In other words. REVIEW!!!**


	5. I Am Most Lovely

**I Am Most Lovely**

**Aight peeps, this particular chapter is inspired by George Moore (the Irish poet/dramatist/novelist/genius), Muse and their awesome Time is Running Out and Daniella (who just so happened to shove that song under my nose!)**

**There is no violence in this chapter, but it is a bit of a plot prodder!**

**Now, enjoy!!**

**Oh and if there are any mistakes, its because my brain is fried from all this heat! Australia is waaay too hot at the moment.**

**I dedicate this chapter to Alex, my little brother who is in love with Bella Swan.**

At exactly seven fifty-eight this morning, Edward beat me in a game of go fish.

What were the terms?

Win and subject your wrath on the loser.

Yeah, now that he had won, I had to read a poem out in class.

ME? Read aloud... in class?

NO way.

But Edward had one and it was _his_ form of wrath.

.

Half an hour later and I am sitting by my desk, the rest of the class all in place and ready for the lesson.

Edward is briefly running through notes on the next poet before he starts.

I can't help but stare at the way his eyes read from side to side. I watch as the green orbs flit back and forth, occasionally lifting slightly to make eye contact with me.

Every time it happens, a jolt shocks my spine. And I will it to happen again.

I know that at some point during this lesson, I will have to read something out loud.

Hopefully he will go soft on me.

Then he stands up, and we both look away. I see from my peripherals as he turns to the chalkboard and begins writing in his neat cursive.

So I let my eyes travel toward him again. His back is to me, but I can just make out the broad curve of his shoulder blades.

I let my eyes wander.

The fabric of his shirt bunches up around his forearms, where he's pushed his sleeves back. I trace the outlines of his taut muscles that appear from underneath.

Then my eyes follow his right arm as it raises high enough to write on the board. He is grasping a piece of chalk firmly between his long fingers. Oh, those fingers.

I just smile, watching silently as his magnificent hands roam the chalkboard.

I can't even help but sigh.

But then again, I probably should stop my ogling. There are consequences if someone else notices.

And then something black is blocking my view, bobbing away in front of me.

What on Earth?

So I focus my eyes and there's an annoying ringing in my ears. Someone is speaking, but it's so high pitched. 'Bella, what are you looking at?'

Alice Brandon is leaning over my desk, her face turned toward me one second, then flicking back the next to spot what I am looking at.

Gosh she moves fast.

So I sigh, grumbling just a little. 'Nothing.'

Her gaze is fixed on me now. She continues her leaning with just one hand placed firmly down upon the wood of the desk.

And I find myself briefly grimacing. Why is she speaking to me?

But she doesn't say anything. She just stands there, smiling. So I decide to take notice of her.

Alice has these tight little jeans on, complimented by silver ballet-like slippers on her tiny feet. How does anyone have such small feet?

Anyway, the main thing I could see was the very significant amount of cleavage that was at a perfect height for my eyes. Wait.

No, Alice may have been standing at my desk, but her eyes kept flitting somewhere else.

So I followed. Oh, her eyes came to a dead rest for just a moment on the boy sitting next to me.

Bloody Jasper Whitlock.

And he wasn't even looking up. Gosh, do women have to do everything?

So I nudged him. And he sat upright from his slight doze.

Then his face froze, eyes locked in just the right place.

I look up and Alice is smiling. I think we may just become friends.

So I start talking, at least now knowing what she is after. 'So Alice,' I start, a little new to this.

'How's the History paper coming along?'

She shrugs, careful to only look at me now. 'It's not as great as I was hoping. I think I need someone to look over it for me.'

Oh she is good.

'Well, Jasper here is the best.' I give him a quick pat on the back.

He smiles, a little nervous. 'Yeah, I can look at it for you.'

I almost feel like laughing. But to refrain myself, I throw him another bone. 'Why don't you sit with us at lunch? I mean, I'm sure Jasper will look over it then.'

Alice smiles hugely. 'Yeah, I think I just might.'

And then I hear Edward, softly clearing his throat. That's how we know to stop talking and listen.

I see him just slightly from behind Alice. His eyes look a combination of frustrated and annoyed.

Then as she takes the hint and goes to take her seat again, his eyes find mine and all traces of irritation are gone.

I try to hide my smile, but as it happens, the involuntary blush seeps its way into my cheeks.

Trying to hide _that_ reaction is another thing altogether.

Coming out of my inner ramblings, I try to focus on what Edward is saying.

'... page seventy-three. We are looking at George Moore and four of his most famous poems.'

A pause.

His head briefly looks up, does a quick check of the room and settles back down again, smiling just slightly. 'Bella, can you read the first there please? Just on the left.'

Did he just single me out?

No, not the first poem. Gosh, he could have warmed me up a little.

I jolt awake now, sitting up a little and clearing my throat just like he does.

I don't even think about what I am reading, I just say it aloud.

'_I am most lovely, fair beyond desire._' No I don't even register what the poem is saying.

But I look up at Edward briefly, hoping he can see my irritated face.

'_My breasts are sweet, my hair is soft and bright._' A snicker. Bloody Mike Newton.

Wait.

What am I reading?

'_And every movement flows by instinct right:_

_Full well I know my touch doth burn like fire_,' I am almost whispering now. I don't know whether or not to be flattered or embarrassed.

But I know he means well.

He wants me to know exactly what I am.

I guess this is his way of helping me out of my shell. Or trying to make me feel better about myself.

'_That my voice stings the senses like smitten lyre_,' I continue, my voice a little louder.

And Edward is watching me closely.

'_I am the queen of sensuous delight'_. I look up, watching as he blatantly stares. But its okay, everyone is busy reading along to notice our silent exchange.

His hair is still dishevelled from our prior engagement. I just want to touch it again. Thread my fingers through its silky thickness.

'_Past years are sealed with the signet of my might; and at my feet pale present kneels a buyer._'

And he grins widely. Just like he did right before he worked his hands on me. Oh I get it now.

'_My beds are odorous with soft-shed scent, and strange moon flowers a tremulous twilight air_.'

He starts twirling his pen within those magnificent fingers. This is his way of teasing.

'_Weave over all; and here, alone I sing_.' Well two can play at that game.

I deepen my voice for the next line, its husky tones dancing around the quiet classroom. '_My siren songs, until all souls are bent within the subtle sweet melodious snare_.'

Oh it worked. Edward closes his eyes and clenches his jaw tightly. I know exactly what is happening to him.

So I clear my voice, making him look at me before I finish the poem. I bite my lower lip before speaking. '_God, making love, made me love's grievous sting._'

And I know he regrets asking me to read that poem.

I've single-handedly reduced him to a flustered-looking boy.

I might as well have won that card game.

But just as the class looks up from their books, Edward is calm and collected again.

It has me baffled.

He shuffles his papers and clears his throat. 'Okay, Jacob, could you read the next one down?'

Jacob's deep voice booms around the quiet classroom.

And one line rings in my ears.

_My siren songs, until all souls are bent within the subtle sweet melodious snare._

.

Lunch is a vivid affair. And boy is Alice Brandon quite the talker. She yaps on in Jasper's ear, he happily listens. He's just smitten.

It almost makes me nauseous. But I am too happy for Jasper to feel disgusted. And he seems to be thoroughly enjoying the sight Alice is offering him as she leans over the stark white cafeteria table.

'I think you could just write 'Hitler', instead of 'Adolf Hitler' every time you mention him...'

Alice looks enthralled in the conversation as Jasper bores over her work, correcting mistakes that were probably strategically placed on purpose.

And then I hear something very odd.

'Hey Alice, do you want to hang out sometime after school?' Jasper's voice sounds nervous, and he looks clammy, tightly wound.

Alice pretends to think about this for a moment, and I turn my attention to Angela and the book she reads beside me. I don't want to impose.

But I can still hear them.

'Sure, Jasper,' I hear Alice's chirpy voice, 'I'm free this afternoon.'

And she seems interested.

But I don't say anything. I let Jasper do all the talking.

'I have something I have to go to after school, but what about tomorrow afternoon?'

I hear her agree in her bubbly voice. 'Okay, tomorrow it is.'

'So what do you have to do after school?' she asks.

Well, I didn't know he had plans either. He tells me everything. Well, especially since he likes my company at the 'wedding' get-togethers.

Jasper's older sister, Rosalie, is getting married.

I have met him too. Emmet is his name. He's real nice, but just a little over-the-top sometimes.

And yet, Rose said she wanted me there for anything to do with the wedding. So how do I not know anything about it?

So I chirp in. 'Yeah, Jasper, what exactly are you doing this afternoon?'

He smiles a little. 'Rose and Em's wedding stuff.'

I raise my eyebrows. He quickly dismisses it. 'It's a game of golf with the boys.'

Oh, now I know why I wasn't invited... _with the boys_.

He looks down at the table. 'I'm a little nervous actually.'

Alice and I stop smiling, both simultaneously cocking an eyebrow at him. 'What?'

He shrugs. 'Well Mr. Cullen is going to be there.'

I scoff at him. 'Why is he going to be there?'

'Well he's Emmett's big brother remember? And he's our teacher... and we're _playing golf_ together.' Jasper informs, with dread in his voice.

'No, you never told me.' I am shocked. But then I put the two together. Edward said he won't be here after school as he had his brother's wedding planning to attend to. Oh.

I mentally slap myself.

And Jasper keeps going. 'Dr. Cullen and my father are going to be there as well... it's supposed to be a manly bonding kind of thing before the wedding.'

Yes, the wedding I am going to be at.

The wedding Edward is going to be at, with his wife.

Oh, things are just about to heat up. Just what I need. And yes, note the sarcasm.

So I rise up from the table, excusing myself to the bathroom. Then I quickly make my way toward his classroom.

.

He is there as usual, mulling over his papers.

'Mr. Cullen?' I gently tap on the door. He looks up, grinning.

'Bella, I told you to call me-'

I cut him short. 'I know, Edward.'

He smirks just a little. 'Sorry about the poem today, I just had to.'

I close the door behind me, ensuring no one could see me in here. 'You know you shouldn't say sorry when you don't mean it.'

He shrugs in a smug way. 'It's true.'

'So,' I let it hang in the air.

He cocks an eyebrow. 'So?'

I roll my eyes at him. 'You didn't tell me that your brother is marrying Jasper's older sister.'

I step forward, inching closer to him as he sits there, legs relaxed and arms crossed casually over his chest.

'Jasper's older sister?' he muses, clearly not in the loop either, 'I honestly didn't realise.'

I scoff at him, I mean really. 'How could you not know?'

He chuckles at me. 'I guess I have just been a little tied up with us to notice anything else lately.'

And I know exactly what he is saying. He doesn't have to spell it out for me.

'I haven't met Rosalie's family yet... I guess I should have put the two and two together. The last names should have rung a bell.' His eyes only see me as he speaks.

I smile for him. 'They have different fathers and hence different last names. Rosalie is a Hale.'

Edward looks stunned. 'I thought she was a Whitlock.'

I cluck my tongue at him. 'Aren't you a great big brother? You even get your new sister-in-law's last name wrong.'

Edward rolls his eyes. 'I know.'

'So you know you're playing golf with Jasper this afternoon right?' I ask, watching his face as it brightens in realisation.

'Oh, no I didn't realise.' He admits.

I take another step forward so that I am barely a foot away from him now. 'Well. Be prepared, Jasper plays a good game.'

Then Edward is standing before me, looking over to the door to ensure it's closed.

'Thanks for the warning,' he leans in towards me, 'but I think I will be fine. After all, you should be cheering for me.'

He just isn't getting it.

I hold my arms out to stop him coming closer. 'Do you realise that I'll be at the wedding?'

He stops short, all serious again. 'Oh.'

I nod my head. 'Yeah.'

I hear his long breath out. And then I feel his touch against my skin. 'Bella, the wedding is going to prove a difficulty.'

I let myself look up. 'I know, but I think it'll be fine... As long as we are both warned and ready for it.'

He nods his head. Then leans in toward me. 'I think so too.'

And his lips find mine in a soft kiss. The sound of our lips gently parting echoes around the room. It's sweet, succinct and not nearly enough.

.

So I walk home, feeling a little at a loss for what to do.

I rather like my evenings spent in Edward's company.

At least James won't be home.

Well, look what happened the last time I said that. I should probably just stick to expecting him there and then be pleasantly surprised when he isn't.

But I couldn't stop my thoughts from wandering to Edward.

It is just the way he looks at me.

It's as though he sees no one else.

And as I bound past the letterbox, up the driveway and into the house, everything is quiet. James is at work. Perfect.

I unlock the front door, clamber in and shove my bag and books onto the bench.

Now what should I do for the next couple of hours?

And then when that is done, what will I do about James and him coming home?

I mean, he hasn't touched me in a little while. I think it has to do with my lack of presence and perhaps the fact that my mother's birthday is only a few days away.

James feels guilty around her birthday.

It makes me actually look forward to this time of year. Especially considering that I should be dreading it.

I wish he'd feel guilty all the time. Maybe then he'd keep his goddamn hands off of me.

But that is in my fantasies.

What I actually have is reality.

I don't know why he does what he does. I don't know if he'll stop what he's doing. I don't know if he'll ever get what he deserves.

But I hope he does.

I feel a new person. One that detests his touch.

And this leaves me shit scared.

I no longer feel the need to be submissive, to bow down to him.

And for the first time in a very long time, I feel like I own my body.

How will this new found power become my demise?

Because I know it will be.

James is a very strong man when he wills himself.

.

I always love my musings. I find that time flies, especially when I talk to myself as I pace the living room, fiddle around in the kitchen and sit on the toilet.

I find it funny how my voice sounds out loud.

It is so much different compared to in my head. But it sheds a different light, you see.

So an hour later and I am in my room. And I have changed out of my school clothes and into something looser, more comfortable.

What should I do?

Hmmm, perhaps some damage control?

In one quick movement, I pull the covers off my bed. I flip the mattress. I leave and return with a cloth and polish to clean the wooden frame.

I am ridding all that is James.

This bed will never be touched by him again.

So fifteen minutes later, I stand back and admire my clean, perfect bed.

Double sized, new sheets and new comforter all donned its clean surface. I even placed Mr. Darcy, my teddy bear, just in front of my newly cased pillows.

Once I am done with my bed, I attend to the rest of the room.

I meticulously clean away all the grime.

And now, my room is pure again. And I vow to never let it get dirty again.

The carpet is clean. No stains. No marks. No nothing.

My bookshelf is dusted. A picture of my mother sits prominently between the classics.

And there by my bed, perched on the table, is her last picture taken.

James won't notice that I took it from the study.

I watch it silently, daring it to move. Daring my mother to move. But her face remains as still as stone.

Standing alone and still wondering what to do with myself, I breathe out slowly through my nose.

There is one thing I want to try.

Just try.

So I spread my hands over the new surface. It's cold. It's clean and whole.

I lay down on top, closing my eyes and letting myself get used to the way it feels here.

Okay, nothing too bad. No bile or excess saliva so far.

I keep my breathing steady.

I need to do this on my own.

It means something to me if I can.

So I breathe out loudly, even startling myself.

And then I slowly dip my right hand underneath the waist-band of my pants.

Delving further, I lift up my panties ever-so-slightly, letting my hand past its barrier.

I spread my legs just a little bit.

And without a second's hesitation, I part my lower lips, gently stroking the flesh there.

The tips of my fingers move toward the sensitive bundle just below the tip of my folds.

They hover a moment.

Gently and incredibly slowly, I inch them closer to it.

Then, with the tip of my middle finger, I stroke it.

The feeling is not what I am expecting. I want to feel pleasure like when Edward would touch me.

But instead it's a heavy pulse. It's sweat congealing at my brow. It's breathlessness. It's desperation. It's James inside my head. Sneering as he touches me.

The bile. My jaw locks, I am determined to keep it shut.

But it wills itself open.

No. Not here. I will not vomit here.

So I extract my fingers and lay breathlessly upon my new bed.

I'm irritated. I'm frustrated. I'm confused.

I'm angry.

What is wrong with me?

And then it flitters through my head.

_I am the queen of sensuous delight._

I can do this.

And the words thought make image upon image of Edward cross my mind.

He's standing still before the blackboard, all dishevelled and lovely. He's lying beside me, holding my hand. He's holding me against a door, those fingers working like magic.

On their own volition, my fingers work their way into my underwear again. They don't hesitate as they find my clit, stroking just like Edward did.

And the sensations are almost as good as they are with him.

I find myself crying out despite myself.

I could be as loud as I wanted.

All I had to do was think of Edward.

And so I spread my legs wider. I arch by back higher. I let my voice ricochet of the walls.

I can actually do this.

And his image dances before my eyes as I violently shudder, coming faster than my first time only a day ago.

Just as I sigh, relaxing, I let those words weave their magic through my head.

_Weave over all; and here, alone I sing_.

I did it.

And I let go, all by myself.

He was right. _I am the queen of sensuous delight._

**Okay peeps what do you think?**

**Well I guess I'll only know if you review!**

**The next chapter is coming soon, probably around this time tomorrow.**

**But reviews tend to inspire me. Especially those lovely in depth ones ;)**

**Oh and sorry about any typos etc, seriously, its way too hot here.**

**Did anyone see Sam the Koala drinking water from the fireman's water bottle? Yeah, isn't he cute. Aww.**

**Anywhoo I am about to youtube this video that people are talking about at work. Jizz in my pants, its got JT in it apparently... anyone seen it?**

**Well until next time: read and review and enjoy – its all for you!**


	6. It's All I Have To Bring Today

**It's All I Have to Bring Today**

**Hey everyone! Thanks for all the reviews, alerts and favourites that you guys have given me. This chapter has no gritty stuff with James, but it does take the plot to a new level. Here we'll meet some of the other characters and see some interaction between them. **

**So this chapter is inspired by Emily Dickinson (second to Plath in my favourite female poets), Take a Picture by Filter (great song) and Daniella (my sister in loving James Franco).**

**So I hope you enjoy, and then review!!**

Fridays have never been a good thing for me.

But this week I feel a little different. Almost normal I suppose.

So I was a little euphoric as I sat on Edward's desk this morning.

After all, I had achieved so much yesterday.

But it felt a little odd to tell him about it. So I just comfortably crossed my legs over the wood and we sat, just talking about the game of golf yesterday.

Edward had beaten them all of course. It was kind of unfair.

Jasper would be shitty, I knew that much. He never went down without a fight, nor did he take losing well.

So I warned Edward. He rolled his eyes and mentioned a little about the lesson today.

Dickinson was the poet.

And we spoke about her, the wedding and Jasper for most of our morning together.

We laughed at our predictions between Jasper and Alice. We were both right in a way. After all, Alice may have started the conversation, but Jasper made the first move.

It was great.

That was until the others started arriving.

By then I was already at my desk, carefully avoiding Edward.

We had covered only two of her poems. _I'm Nobody_, it was nice and quirky. But, _Because I Could Not Stop For Death _was a little bleak. Yet so well done.

He never made me recite a poem. For that I was happy.

But I couldn't stop myself reading the other poems in the anthology while Mike read.

'_I'm nobody, are you... nobody too?_'

I had to laugh at that. Clever Edward and his choice of poems.

But there was one poem I really liked.

It was more of a love poem. I'm not quite sure how to describe it.

Well, never mind, it isn't important anyway.

So now its last period and I have gym.

Mike Nobody Newton is in front of me, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, a racquet in hand and two tennis balls in his right shorts pocket.

Yeah tennis, or any sport altogether, is definitely not my forte.

Tyler lobs the little green ball my way, knowing which of the two of us is totally useless.

I panic.

The ball is flying toward me, up and over Mike's blonde head.

It seems to be going so slow. And so am I.

But I try my best.

I pull the racquet backwards. I'm ready for the swing.

And Mike is turning toward me, his hands going above his head.

I can see the expression on his face. His mouth is lagging open, his knees are giving just a little, his hands are pulling at his hair.

He's frightened.

I roll my eyes. What is there to be _that_ frightened of, I mean, seriously?

So I smash the ball as hard as I can.

And I completely forget to aim or anything. Who aims anyway?

The ball ricochets off the racquet, the material bending under the pressure.

It spins violently, curving just a little.

The ball flies straight for Mike the Nobody.

And there's a piercing wail. Almost like a girl.

It hit, with a resounding thud.

And he's holding himself, falling to his knees.

Who knew I could hit so well? Right in the groin.

But I can't be that mean, so I run over to him. I say the customary sorry and help him up.

Well that's gym for you.

.

An hour later and I'm at home, getting ready.

I have to be at Jasper's in half an hour. Rosalie would like my help with a few things before the big day on Saturday.

And I am wondering as I walk on the footpath toward his street. _What will Jasper and Alice be doing right now?_

It is today that they are hanging out after all.

So as I round the corner of his street, I see his driveway.

And there's a yellow Porsche on its pebbled surface.

Alice Brandon's father is quite wealthy.

That's all I have to say.

So I approach it, admiring the impeccable shine.

The windows are so clean. They hold my reflection just like a mirror would.

And there's a little black head of hair bobbing away beside my reflection.

'Hey Bella,' I hear a high pitched voice say.

I turn around and Alice is there, leaning against her car.

She barely came up to my shoulder.

I blink twice. 'Oh, hey Alice.'

She grins, those perfect teeth all in a straight line. Braces I guess.

'I thought you may be here already,' I watch her delicate mouth move as she talks.

I shrug. 'Yeah, Rose asked for my help a couple of days ago. The whole wedding thing has her a bit nervous I think.'

Alice bounced twice on her toes. 'I know it's so exciting. I'm going to be there tomorrow too!'

I can help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. 'That's great. I bet Jasper is happy about that.'

'Well yes, everything is going well.'

I watch her play with her short hair.

'That's good, so you like him then?'

She shrugs a little. 'Maybe.'

And then she smiles brightly. 'I want to thank you for helping me out the other day. You know, with Jasper and all... Boys don't really take the hint, do they?'

I nod, still chuckling. 'No, I suppose they don't.'

'Well, Rose has been waiting for you. We better not keep her waiting long.' Alice chirps.

'Okay,' I shrug and walk alongside her.

Rose is inside with an apron on, stirring what looked like tonight's dinner. Pasta it seems to be.

I can smell the garlic and oregano.

I lift my head and smell, smiling appreciatively. 'Wow, Rose, that smells amazing.'

She turns around, startled from her cooking. 'Bella, thank God you're here.'

Her waist length blonde waves fall over her shoulder as she comes toward me, her arms outstretched.

She envelopes me in a tight hug. Then she starts to fuss over the state of my hair and clothes... as usual.

'Bella, what is going on with your hair?'

I shrug. 'Nothing really.'

Her expression is incredulous. 'How many times have I told you to use that moisturising conditioner I gave you?'

I don't bother responding.

'I'm doing you up for my wedding.' She grins, pulling her apron off. 'And tonight for our girls-only get together.'

I scoffed. 'Please not tonight, I can take tomorrow, just not tonight.'

She sighs. 'Okay then, but I'm going all out tomorrow.'

'Wont you have enough to worry about with your own hair and makeup?'

Those blue eyes have amusement in them. 'Nope, Alice here is doing it for me.'

With this, Alice bounces into the kitchen pulling Jasper along in her wake. 'I'm doing what?'

'My hair and makeup,' Rose says brightly, smugly.

'Oh yeah, it's going to be fantastic Rose.' Alice giggles.

Jasper looks a little overwhelmed by her side, but he doesn't say anything.

I smile reassuringly at him. 'Hey Jasper.'

'Hey Bella,' he smiles nervously, his arm locked with Alice's, 'are you ready for your hen's night thing?'

Rose turns around and glares at him. 'It's not a hen's night Jasper, it's just a girl's night-in okay?'

He puts his hands up in defence. 'Okay, okay. I get it.'

Rose titters, pulling him in for a hug. 'You know you're the best little brother any girl could ask for.'

Boy her moods were really bad. Pre-wedding jitters is definitely happening there.

And then, just as Rose pulls away from Jasper, there's the sound of a car pulling up outside.

Emmett's booming voice reaches us as he barges through the front door.

'...I'm so hungry that I could eat a...'

We all roll our eyes.

And he trudges through the doorway, ruffling his dark curly hair.

He grins down at all of us, stopping briefly at Alice and squinting a little.

Jasper clears his throat. 'Em, meet Alice.'

Emmett smiles a knowing smile. 'Good on you man.' He attempts to high-five him.

Jasper grimaces, pulling Alice away.

Emmett turns to me now. 'So Bella, what's been happening?'

I shrug, but he pulls me in for a bear hug. He squeezes the breath out of me. 'Em...' I rasp out.

He laughs his booming laughter. 'So any boys tickled your fancy lately?'

I cringe. 'No boys.' I put emphasis on one word in particular.

He cocks an eyebrow. 'Don't worry, they'll be grovelling in no time.'

'Who'll be grovelling?' I heard a familiar smooth voice.

Edward appears from behind Emmett, carrying a large cardboard box.

I feel my stomach twist.

And the blush rises up past my neck and into my cheeks.

Edward places the box down behind Emmett somewhere and stands before us.

His eyes find mine.

He's surprised.

'Oh, Bella... Hi.'

My breath hikes. 'Ed- Mr. Cullen,' I smile nervously.

Nobody speaks. And I feel the blush rise higher, heating my forehead. I think I might have a fever.

Emmett moves awkwardly. 'So...'

Rose saves us. My God do I love her.

'Alright, Edward, what have you got for me?'

He ruffles his bronze hair. It must have been a Cullen trait. 'Just some of the table decorations.'

Rose heads towards the box, rips it open and shuffles through the bits and pieces.

'Oh, you got the name cards for the tables too.'

Edward nods. 'Yep, everything's there.'

His eyes travel to meet mine. I can't place what is there as he quickly looks away.

I do too, turning my attention to Alice and Jasper.

Alice is staring at me intently.

I blink twice.

Jasper is too busy pulling at Rosalie's skirt to notice. I watch him instead, avoiding her scrutinising gaze.

He gently pulls at her skirt when she isn't looking, but has her head in the box with all the bits and pieces. He quickly steps back and pretends to be biting his nails.

Rose flips around angrily, her eyes on fire. 'Jasper, I know it's you.'

He looks up absentmindedly. 'I... what?'

She huffs. 'Just stop it, okay?'

He shrugs nonchalantly. But then he does it again.

I can't continue to watch. He is so antagonistic.

I roll my eyes and turn my attention to Emmett now.

He's eyeing the simmering pasta in the pot over the stove. 'Rosie, can I smell Napoletana?'

I smirk. He's such a food fiend.

She looks up briefly, snapping a little. 'Yes, and you can't have any... it's for the girls when they're all here.'

Emmett sighs. 'But I'm so hungry and it smells so good.' He's whining now.

I chuckle and look away.

Edward is staring at me.

God is there anywhere I can look?

.

Not long later and we're all by the dinner table, twirling Rose's spaghetti Napoletana around our forks.

Edward is still staring.

I give him an incredulous look. 'What?' I mouth.

He shrugs and turns back to his pasta.

I do the same, but I notice Alice watching from my peripherals.

Cautiously, I look up, trying to avoid Edward and turn to the pixie a few seats down. I smile, trying to seem calm.

She returns the smile brightly.

Then I return to my pasta. But Rose speaks.

'Bella, can I get you to do something for me?' Incredibly nice tone now... what'll it be?

I nod, encouraging her.

'Well, I didn't want the whole best man or maid of honour thing for the wedding... but I would like you to read something out during the ceremony, if that's okay?'

I look up at her, pleasantly surprised.

She continues though. 'And Edward here is going to say a little something on behalf of Em.'

I grin, at least I won't be alone.

'You just have to read a bit, and Edward will be up there with you...'

I nod. 'Sure, I can do that... But what do I have to read?'

She thinks about that for a moment. 'Well I thought you could pick a nice poem.'

I look over to Edward. He's carefully composed.

'So anything I think would be nice?' I ask, a little nervous about it.

'Well I know you'll pick just the right thing, so I trust you.'

I think about that for a moment. 'How does Emily Dickinson sound?'

Rose agrees brightly.

And I know just the right poem. She'll love it.

'So how does this one go?' Rose asks.

I clear my throat like I always do. I had memorised this poem already. I had been staring at it all morning, letting it weave into the tight confines of my head.

'It's all I have to bring today--  
This, and my heart beside--  
This, and my heart, and all the fields--  
And all the meadows wide--  
Be sure you count--should I forget  
Some one the sum could tell--  
This, and my heart, and all the Bees  
Which in the Clover dwell.'

I look over to Edward. And he's smiling.

Rose grins. 'It's perfect Bella. It's exactly right. Love is all I have to bring.' She bends over toward Emmett and they share a sweet kiss.

I grin, not because of my choice of poem, but because Rose looks happy.

I hope I could look that happy one day.

'What's the poem called?' Rose asks, still nuzzling Emmett's nose.

'It's All I Have To Bring Today,' both Edward and I chant at the same time.

Then there's silence.

But Emmett's booming laughter breaks it. 'Snap man!'

Everyone lets out a thick breath.

No, not awkward at all.

And Alice is looking at me again, she seems a little intrigued.

But I ignore her. Instead I focus on the new conversation.

'So Edward, where's Tanya tonight?' I hear Rose ask.

Edward nervously rubs his neck. 'Ah... she couldn't make it... she has... an appointment.'

My gut drops. An appointment. The hyperventilation starts. I must stop it.

Rose raises an eyebrow. 'Is she...' she trails off suggestively.

He narrows his eyes. 'No it's nothing like that.'

I breathe a deep sigh.

Thank God.

But Edward doesn't elaborate, so we go back to eating silently.

Then I decide I need a break. I politely excuse myself from the table and make my way toward the bathroom.

I don't bother locking the door, silently willing Edward to walk through it.

But he doesn't, so I just fix my already done-for hair and open the door.

He's waiting outside.

I breathe out slowly, just needing to wrap my arms around him. 'Hi,' I say.

His eyes dart between mine.

Back and forth.

But he doesn't say anything.

And it's dark in the hallway. No lights are on. Even though I swear there was before.

Edward's lips part and he sighs. 'It's all I have to bring today.'

I feel his body come inextricably closer. 'This and my heart beside.'

He's pushing me back against the wall.

I can feel all of him. 'This and my heart, and all the fields...'

My hands lift to his hair, caressing the thick mass above his ears. 'And all the meadows wide.'

I feel him sigh, letting out the hot air between our touching bodies.

He lightly touches my face, memorising the curves and dips there. 'Be sure you count –'

He's cut off by quick steps in our direction.

We part swiftly and I retreat back into the bathroom.

I hear Alice's chirpy voice sing its way to my ears. 'Hey Mr. Cullen. You need the bathroom too?'

I roll my eyes. She is definitely checking up on us.

It just means that we must be a little more subtle about this.

I hear Edward's quiet reply. 'Yes, but you can go first.'

Alice giggles. 'Ever the gentleman...'

I groan quietly so that neither of them can hear me.

Then I pretend to flush the toilet and wash my hands.

When I open the door, Alice is bouncing up and down by the door. 'Hey Bella, are you ready for tonight?'

I try to smile. 'Umm, yeah I guess.'

She squeals a little.

Oh what have I gotten myself into?

.

Once Edward, Jasper and Emmett left, carrying all the leftovers, us girls all sat around the lounge.

We have been joined by Angela, Rosalie's college friend Kate, Rosalie's mother, Tina and Edward's mother, Esme.

It's a small gathering, but it's intimate.

Rose earlier, had suggested we set up the hall for the reception. To... you know, get it out of the way.

So we are all walking towards the huge front doors of the reception room in the downtown Events Hall.

Alice is chirping alongside me. 'Wow, this is going to be amazing.'

I look down at her. 'Yeah I think so too.'

As Rose unlocks the door with her special key, given to her by the grounds staff, she pushes it open with one mighty heave.

Alice is still talking. 'I wonder what Jasper will look like tomorrow.'

And as I watch her, I have a sudden need to ask her something. 'So do you like him?'

Alice's face turns pink.

I look at her expectantly. She shrugs.

I snort. 'Not at all?'

She crosses her arms. 'So do you like Mr. Cullen?'

My eyes open wide.

Blush creeps into my cheeks.

'Ah...'

How do I save myself?

I will have to shrug it off as though it's just an infatuation.

'Well, he's the hottest teacher I've ever seen... so I guess if we are talking about teacher crushes then yeah.'

Alice rolls her eyes. 'There's something there, I can see it.'

I scoff. 'No really, it's all unrequited and all that.'

She looks incredulous.

'Well really, how could anyone not look at that?' I try to sound like a teenage girl.

She smiles. 'I know, he's gorgeous. But watch out, I can feel a vibe you know.'

I raise my eyebrow.

'Don't worry, I would never say anything... I'd just lecture you endlessly.'

I sigh. 'Well there's nothing to lecture me about.'

She murmurs as we walk pass the stacked up chairs and tables. 'Sure thing.'

And so the night continues.

Esme, with her soft curling Caramel hair, is unstacking chairs and moving around the tables. Tina, a spit for Rose, is helping arrange the furniture. It has to have good 'feng shui'.

Kate and Rose look over seating arrangements.

Alice, Angela and I sort through table places and the cards to go with them.

Once the hall is decorated elaborately and everything is in place, we all stand back and admire it.

I cheat a little and look to where I am placed.

Right next to Angela and Kate. But across from Edward and his wife.

This should be interesting.

But I brush it from my mind as we all jump back into the cars and return back to Jasper and Rose's place.

Now it is time for the real torture.

Mud masks. Bubble baths. Nail polish.

Oh fun.

So I am going to completely skip over the pain of it all.

The last thing I remember as we all slip into our sleeping bags around the living room, is Alice's whisper in my ear.

'It's all I have to bring today...'

I grunt a little. 'Alice, I don't need to practise.'

She grunts. 'No but I know something's up.'

I scoff at her. 'You're reading into it.'

'Maybe I am, but still if you ever need to talk...'

I huff and turn over.

'This, and my heart, and all the Bees which in the Clover dwell...' Her voice carries me to sleep.

**Aight peeps, I had 1300 hits just yesterday on my story and only 8 reviews in the day. I'm a little lost at whether you like it or not. I mean, theres heaps of hits but no reviews? **

**What should I think?**

**Should I stop?**

**so yeah, i guess if you want me to keep going it would be nice to have some comments saying you liked it.**

**But, in saying that - thankyou to those who did review, you make my day!!**

**And I love the virtual cookies and icecream (you know who you are. hint hint babibex44). chocolate next time aight? lol.**

**Basically I'm grovelling for reviews - I need confidence (as Daniella puts it).**

**love you long time xx**


	7. Serenade

**Serenade**

**Okay my little munchkins, this particular chapter is an Edward POV, for those of you who have asked for it. **

**It is inspired by Edgar Allen Poe, yes he is just amazing. It's also inspired by a combination of The Smashing Pumpkins and Elliot Smith. Oh and I cannot forget the lovely Daniella, my fellow minx.**

**I have changed a little bit about my style – I don't think you'll even notice it. But I have had a suggestion that I should put more than one sentence on a line. So I am experimenting a little – tell me what you think if you notice anything different!**

**And thankyou all so much for the reviews, I loved them all!**

**So with that out of the way, enjoy peeps!**

**It's the wedding time.**

*****************************

'I can make you satisfied in everything you do,

All your secret wishes could right now be coming true.

And be forever with my poison arms around you.

No one's going to fool around with us.'

~ELLIOT SMITH~

*************************

_Edward Cullen._

The monotony was tiring. I'd wake up, go to work, come home and sleep again. Everything about my days was lifeless, tedious.

But then she walked through that door like an ethereal figure from my dreams. Her silky long hair fell in waves to her waist. And I was completely besotted by her.

Her name was Isabella. But she hated that. So we all called her Bella.

Bella, the angel. It fit well.

And then there was that one day. That one day where I couldn't ignore her anymore. She strode into my classroom, an hour early and looking tired, upset even. I didn't know how to comfort her.

So I spoke to her, not as a teacher or even a colleague. I spoke to her as a friend. I so desperately wanted to be her friend. And she did open up. Just a little, but I sensed there was a little more to it.

But in truth, I really was out of my league. I had no idea about abusive relationships. Well, what if she wasn't even in one?

She could have just been depressed for all I knew. But all I did know was that she had started changing once we became friends. She was looking healthier, happier. But still, I knew something was wrong.

I filled all my time with her. I focussed everything I had on her. I was falling for her. And I was falling hard.

I would try to chastise myself.

_She's your student for Christ's sake. It's not normal, it's not right at all._

But my body and my head were two separate functioning organs. They disagreed a lot. I found it harder every morning to ignore her. Christ, I found it hard even when I did speak to her.

I caught myself looking at those lips as her words slipped out, wondering how soft they must feel. Or how soft they would be under my fingertip.

I needed more.

I couldn't go another week, no not even another day with all these feelings bottled up inside. Eventually I pushed myself too far. I think I may have pushed her a little too far as well.

I was so busy looking into her actions, justifying myself by believing it was looking out for her when really I was only satisfying my own needs. I was satisfying my need to be closer to her.

So I chose an awful poem.

It even got to me and I had no problems with my father. But I knew that if she had any issues, and I knew she did with her step father, then Daddy was the right poem to let it all out.

And I was right. As much as I didn't want to be.

But I needed to be closer to her. Even if it was just me knowing the most intimate things about her. So, the selfish being I am, I forced it upon her.

I followed her as she escaped the confines of the classroom. I even followed her into the bathrooms. I then told her how I felt.

I needed her to know.

And then she left me. But only later, she came back again. That was when my life got inexplicably better. I had a reason to get up in the morning.

I had Bella.

.

And I am taken out of my musings by my wife.

'Edward, where's my white dress?'

I roll my eyes. 'It's by the dryer. Anyway Tanya, you shouldn't wear white to the wedding. You'll steal Rose's shine.'

She returns from the laundry, her face in a scowl. 'I'll wear what I want. Rose has enough shine anyway.'

Well what can I say?

She huffs. 'Where's my purse?' I shrug, defeated. 'Probably on the kitchen bench.'

Her strawberry blonde hair whips out behind her as she stalks out of the room. 'How do I look anyway?'

I follow her into the small space. She has on a white sundress and Trojan flats. Rose will be upset. But so will Tanya if I ask her to change. 'You look nice, now can we go?'

'Only nice?' she snaps. 'You'd think I'd get a better compliment from my husband.'

I sigh, really very tired. 'You look lovely and beautiful. Are you ready to go now?'

I hear her snap. 'Fine then.'

.

The car ride is quiet, Tanya turns on the radio. She likes P!nk. _U and Ur Hand _is on.

I really can't stand it. But she likes it, so I put up with it. And I park the car by a whole heap of others and I hop out, straightening my black slacks and white button down.

It's not such a formal wedding. It is going to be small, intimate and comfortable. Only Rosalie's dress is going to be the most fancy. She deserves it though.

Seeing the setup makes me remember our wedding only two years ago.

What a nightmare.

I didn't even know if I was going to make it. I probably shouldn't have gone. I should have stopped the whole thing as kindly as I could. Then maybe it would have been Bella standing before me in a long white gown.

I can't wait for this mess to end. Once Bella has graduated, it's going to be just us, no one will ever get in the way.

And speaking of my brown-eyed beauty... there she is.

She looks so different. And I can't help but stare. Pretty, yet provocative blue heels adorn those tiny little feet. And she has on a matching blue dress which hugged her curves nicely.

The way it gently caresses those hips. I just want to reach out and grab them with both hands. I want to curl my fingers in her glossy curls. I want to pull her to me and whisper in her ear. I want to slowly bring her on top of me. I want to gently slip those shoes off, running my fingers along the soft skin of her legs. I want to ever-so-slowly remove that dress, kissing every part of her skin as I go.

I need to have her, in every way.

And yet again, Tanya shocks me from my thoughts. 'What are you staring at?'

I smile for her benefit. 'Nothing, I'm just admiring the beauty of the place.'

She snorts. 'Yeah, ours was better.'

I roll my eyes. Can't she just be happy for once?

'Where are we sitting?' Her voice starts to get irritating.

I shrug. 'I don't know, probably on the groom's side.' So we make our way over and take a seat. Tanya is silent, staring straight ahead.

I will a conversation at least. 'So how was the appointment yesterday?'

She doesn't move, nor say anything.

I sigh. 'Well..?'

'The doctor gave me iron tablets. He thinks that is why I can't fall pregnant.'

I try to hide my cringe. 'Because you have low iron levels?'

She looks at from the corner of her eyes. 'Yes.'

'Can you at least elaborate?' I ask her, trying really hard. She clears her throat and shifts awkwardly. 'Some doctors believe that being iron deficienct may lead to problems with conceiving.'

I nod my head. 'Okay.'

I really don't know what to think. I am really starting to worship our diet and the lack of iron. Really, is that bad?

So I turn away from her.

And then Emmett is there, before the altar. Looking incredibly nervous. His eyes are flitting everywhere at once, up toward the high ceiling-roof, down around the massive bouquets and candles that are all strategically placed.

He fiddles with his hands. They are twitching anxiously as he holds them by his sides.

I think I need to be there. Well, that's just my excuse to get away. So I stand up and make my way over, landing a huge thump on his back. 'So, are you nervous, little brother?'

He looks as though he's about to vomit.

I take that as a yes.

'Don't worry about it man, once you see her, everything will be fine.'

Silence.

'You're not having second thoughts are you?' I tease him a little.

He glares now, his jaw clenching in a menacing way. 'No.'

I laugh at this. I mean, he just needs to loosen up a bit. 'Come on, Em. It will all be fine.'

He breathes out an incredible sigh. 'What if _she's_ having second thoughts?'

I let the words sink in. Then I let my booming laughter fill the space between us. 'Yeah, Em, she wanted this more than you and she's the one with cold feet?' I roll my eyes. I mean, come on. 'She hasn't got cold feet, man.'

Emmett smiles a little nervously. 'No, she will be fine, won't she?'

I give him another thump on the back. 'As fine as she'll ever be.'

'Who'll be fine?' I hear a familiar voice behind me.

'Hey Dad,' Emmett loosens a little, 'how's Mom doing?'

My father blinks a few times, takes a breath and looks up at us. 'She's fine, just worried that you may chew your cheek off if you keep going the way you're going.'

Emmett stops his chewing, stills his feet and hold his hands. 'Oh.'

Carlisle turns to me now. 'And Edward. How's Tanya?'

I sigh, defeated. 'She's okay, just as normal, I guess.'

He doesn't miss a beat. 'Just as normal?' I refuse to look at him as his face softens. 'Very well, it's Emmett and Rose's day today. But Edward, I think we should discuss this a little later.'

I nod quickly, willing him to go away. But he doesn't, he just turns his attention back to Emmett. I think someone needs his father right about now. I can't imagine how it must feel to be standing there alone at the altar right before the ceremony starts. It's not like I was doing that at my wedding. I waited outside, pondering my choices. But it's not like Rose isn't going to appear anytime soon.

But I block their conversation out as I watch Alice hanging off of Bella's arm. They're handing out what seems to be small booklets. It's probably today's proceedings.

I watch as Bella's hair falls over her shoulder when she bends to hand the out the papers. She still looks different. Her hair is a whole lot shinier. And I like it, a lot. She turns to look at me, a slight smile gracing her plump lips.

I smile back.

And then she is off, finishing her rounds with Alice and disappearing to where I assume Rose is getting ready with my Mother and Tina.

.

Fifteen excruciating minutes later, and the wedding themed music starts playing. I cringe, simply because it's so clichéd. But what the hell right? This isn't my wedding.

I turn in my seat, following everybody's gaze as Rose walks through the large double doors in the front of the church. Now I know to stand, just like everybody else.

She does look beautiful. And I know exactly what Emmett must be thinking. It's probably something along the lines of _thank god _or _hell yes!_

Her dress is long, but not overly lacy and wide like you see every day. It fits her lovely, just perfectly. And her smile compliments it well. She looks just so happy.

It makes me pine just a little. How nice it would be to have a graceful bride to marry. And for the first time in my life, I feel a little jealous of Emmett. But I know it to be a stupid feeling that I should brush away. He is my brother after all. I should be happy for him.

And as Rose walks past us and toward the front, I follow her white figure as it brushes past Bella.

Bella.

She grins, watching Rosalie in her slow but sure steps toward Emmett. But then her eyes fall upon me.

And I don't want to look away.

Even as the music stops, and the pastor begins his speech, I can't stop looking. I just want to be next to her, having her body heat invade all my senses.

It's not until a little while later, that I find myself tearing away my eyes. It's our cue. 'May I have Miss Swan and Mr. Cullen to join us at the altar?'

_Yes, you may._

So we make our way up there, probably walking a little too fast. Bella knocks her knee on one of the wooden seats, but continues happily walking nevertheless.

I meet her up there and we stand side by side before the little microphone. Oh, how I have wanted to be close to her this whole morning. God, her smell just hits me like a ton of bricks.

I'm a little dazed and I forget my poem. Luckily she has hers written down just in case. I probably should have done that.

So she begins. 'This is all I have to bring today...'

But I don't really hear what she's saying as I watch those pretty lips move. Oh, how I want to run a finger over them, gently push them so they give under my pressure.

_So plump_.

And I'm still admiring her as she finishes the poem. She looks up and me and smiles, expectantly.

Oh, that's right. I have a poem to recite too.

So I lean in to the microphone, bringing my body inexorably closer to hers. Oh, the warmth as it radiates from her skin is best of pleasures.

'_So sweet the hour, so calm the time; I feel it more than half a crime_.' I let Poe's words spill from my lips. And then I turn my head down towards her, watching her just a little.

'_When nature sleeps and stars are mute, to mar the silence, ev'n with lute._' I feel her soft fingers find mine. Lucky the lectern is in the way. Nobody but us can see.

I wrap my hand around hers, quickly looking down to see her steady blush gracing those cheeks. '_At rest on ocean's brilliant dyes, an image of Elysium lies._'

She steps a little closer so that her hips and arms are touching mine. I will myself not to pull her to me, so that every inch of our bodies are pushed together. That just wouldn't do. Not here, not now.

So I try to focus on my poem. '_Seven Pleiades entranced in heaven, form in deep another seven._'

I look out onto the small crowd and everybody is smiling. They like my poem. And so does Bella. '_Endymion nodding from above, sees in the sea a second love. Within the valleys dim and brown, and on the spectral mountain's crown, the wearied light is dying down_.'

She smiles, looking up to me. I speak to her now. '_And earth, and stars, and sea, and sky, are redolent of sleep, as I am redolent of thee and thine, enthralling love, my Adeline._'

There's a collective gasp in the crowd at those words. But I don't care. I just continue, turning my gaze away from Bella now. '_But list, O list, - so soft and low, thy lover's voice tonight shall flow, that, scarce awake, thy soul shall deem, my words the music of a dream_.'

I let my eyes find Tanya. I don't know what she'll be thinking.

And there she is, reading the booklet and biting her fingernails. She isn't even interested as I profess my love to another woman. Does she even realise?

As though she could hear my thoughts, she looks up. Her face is carefully composed. Her eyes look tired, bored even. So I make the most of the situation. I look back down to Bella and recite the last few lines of my poem.

'_Thus, while no single sound too rude, upon thy slumber shall intrude, our thoughts, our souls - O God above! In every deed shall mingle, love._'

I will my eyes to break away from Bella's to find Tanya. And there she sits, still flicking through the booklet as though I bore her to death.

And then the ceremony finishes in a flash of _I do's_ and flying rice confetti.

It is time for the reception now.

I follow Tanya inside the grand hall, noting the decorations that start from the door and lace their way around furniture and people, right up into the ceiling. Balloons. Oh no.

I could see it being an _Alice_ idea. Balloons are trapped and ready to fall.

But I just shrug and move on, looking around to find my table.

And I couldn't find my table anywhere. I couldn't find either my or Tanya's name anywhere.

But then I saw her, all wrapped in that deep wondrous colour. Like a mountain bluebird.

I see my name right in front of her.

Well, it will be interesting, now knowing where I am actually sitting.

Right before Bella.

I have no idea how I will keep my hands off her for such a long period of time.

And she flashes me her heart-stopping smile. 'Mr. Cullen, how are you?'

I feel like sighing as her scent encircles my body again. 'I'm fine, and you, Bella?'

She bites her lower lip. 'Just great.'

Lucky Tanya is too busy dwelling in her own pool of self-doubt and pity, she doesn't notice our exchange. She's flicking through her phone, probably working through her ovulation dates.

And Looking back at Bella, her big brown eyes give everything away. And I just know I will dance with her tonight.

So out of a force of habit, I pull out Tanya's chair for her. It is something I have to do to keep her happy. 'Tanya, this is one of my students, Bella.'

Tanya looks up, doesn't bother smiling, grunts and then looks back down again. She continues to flick through her phone.

I sigh and roll my eyes. She doesn't see anything or anyone but herself.

But Bella looks shocked, her eyes wide and startled.

I shrug for her benefit. 'How's the assignment coming along?'

I had given them an assignment to complete over the weekend. She looks sideways, mischievously. 'Ah, well, it's coming along fine.'

I laugh, mocking her. 'You haven't even started, have you?'

She shakes her head. 'Well, if we are being truthful, I have had a lot to keep my occupied.' Yeah no subtle hints there at all.

And is the point where Alice bounces in to the conversation, taking her seat and pulling Jasper alongside her. 'Are we talking about that project you gave us Mr. Cullen?'

I nod in her direction. 'Yes, I was just asking Bella how it was going.'

Alice's eyes go wide. 'I haven't even started yet, sorry, sir.'

I snort, rolling my eyes. 'It's not a big deal.' And at that, Alice settles down. She grabs on to Jasper's hand upon the table.

_Finally._

Yet I find myself pining again. I just want to hold Bella's hand. It would be nice to show everyone that she is mine.

_Soon,_ I reassure myself.

And then Tanya decides to resurface from her hole of self-pity. I feel her hand wrap around mine under the table.

I just need to pretend its Bella. But then seeing her across from me, her face not at all suspecting, I feel my stomach drop. Tanya isn't Bella, and I should ensure to make the distinction between the two.

But I want to pull away. I detest her skin near mine. It should be Bella's.

I gently extricate my hand. I then look over to Bella as I place both hands upon the table.

She grins and my heart skips a beat. She's so busy being young, watching the couples dance that she doesn't notice the tense air between Tanya and I.

Yet, just as she turns around to face me again, Tanya chooses that moment to rub my hand with hers. I instantly feel disgusting.

Bella surreptitiously looks down to our entwined hands. Then she looks back up again.

The knot in my stomach tightens. I need to pull my hand away. But Tanya's fingers are firmly locked on mine. It won't be easy.

Bella's face falls just slightly. She rises from her seat. She walks away.

What do I do?

I follow, that's what I'll do. You follow the one you love. Because damn it, I think I may love her.

Out past the rose bushes and down the cobbled footpath her quick feet are roaming.

I call out to her. 'Bella,' she ignores me. So I yell again. Nothing.

I quicken my pace, letting my feet guide me to her. I see her blue dress snake its way into the woods of the church graveyard.

So I continue to follow her quick footsteps.

I pass rows and rows of tombstones as they become even duller in the twilight. The moon is coming out and its light bores over the thin blue dress Bella wears.

She must be cold. So I shrug off my black suit jacket and carry it with me, ready to give to her when she turns around.

But she keeps moving incredibly fast into the depths of the tombstones, each one getting grander as we delve our way through the sparse woods.

I call out to her again. 'Bella?'

Nothing, just the sound of her quick movement.

I start to get angry now. 'Bella.'

She flips around and I can see the lone tears leaking its way down her pale cheek.

Oh no, have I done this?

She looks a combination of livid and hurt. She seems to be torn between the two.

I let her speak first. 'What?'

Her words whip out and slash me. I cower. 'Bella, I'm sorry.'

She rolls her eyes to keep them from tearing any further. 'Just leave me alone.'

I sigh, confused and angry at myself. 'I don't know what to say to you. I tried to pull away, I did.'

She turns around again, her hair whipping out behind her. 'I don't know why you just don't leave her.'

My heart sinks, but I follow. 'I told you why.'

'And I said I don't care, just leave her and you'll be so much happier... trust me, I saw the way your face looked when she touched you.'

I huff, getting irritated now. 'I already told you why I won't leave her. It's all for you, don't you see?'

She fists her hands and turns to face me, her words a shriek. 'I don't give a fuck if it's for me. You're unhappy, can't you see that?'

I snort. 'Of course I can. But don't you see that I am most happy when I am with you? Do you think that for a second I would ever give that up?'

Her eyes are on fire. And I know she's infuriated. 'Yes, you should.'

I step towards her now, equally as livid. How could she think such a thing? 'Well I won't, you're more important to me than anyone else.'

I feel her little hands push at my chest. 'I shouldn't be.'

I pull her closer, against her will. 'And why not?' She's torn, that much I can see.

But eventually, she reluctantly folds into my embrace. I can feel her tears as they fall onto my chest, soaking the fabric. And all I want to do is comfort her. So I rub her back soothingly.

'_Seven Pleiades entranced in heaven, form in the deep, another seven._' I coo in her ear.

She pulls away to look up at me, those deep eyes searching. 'Edward...' she whispers.

'Mhmm,' I murmur, gingerly toying with a loose curl.

She doesn't say anything, but rather holds on to me tighter.

But then, after a few moments, I feel the weight of her fingertip as it brushes my hand, pulling it away from her hair. She lifts it to her lips, placing a delicate kiss in my palm.

I sigh at the feeling of it, all warm and slightly wet.

But then she startles me a little. She pulls my hand to her, letting it mould around the perfect shape of her left breast.

My heartbeat thunders in my ears. My breathing hikes, sharp intakes of breath are coupled with short gasps out. _What does she want?_

The graveyard here really isn't the best place for anything like this. She seems to note my reluctance and responds by tugging on my tie.

I'm jerked forwards, crashing into her, feeling the entire expanse of her little curvy body. What's the right thing to do?

My body and my mind are thinking two very different things.

But I don't have time to decide between the two as Bella's mouth is on mine. It's already open, her hot breath tickling my skin as she pulls me closer.

By now my thoughts are everywhere. At one point I focus on the way she moans just a little as my tongue finds hers. Then the next I feel the need to pull away, to be a gentleman and lead her somewhere else but here.

I want to love her. I want to be everything for her. But my consciousness is screaming at me to stop, to pull away. But I can't.

I love the way her lips feel against mine, as much as I shouldn't. I need to have more. But I shouldn't want it. I need to feel her body, letting her skin touch every inch of mine. But I know that's not right, not here and not now.

_It's my brother's wedding for Christ's sake._

But then she does something that throws me into the deep end. I can no longer resurface. I'm too far gone. She reaches down to grip me through my pants.

I gasp without thinking. 'Bella...'

I see her eyes from the gentle glow of the moon as she looks up at me. 'Don't think about it.'

So I don't.

Instead, I slowly pull the thin straps of her dress down, revealing the soft curves of her shoulders.

Encouraged by her sighing, I lean down to place a small kiss on either side as the dress drops to her waist, revealing her bare round breasts.

And my fingers ache to touch them. But before I get my wish, Bella is popping the buttons on my shirt, pulling it away from my chest. The cold pricks at my exposed flesh, causing an eruption of a thousand goosebumps to adorn the skin there.

I feel Bella's hand touch it lightly. 'You're cold.'

I roll my eyes. She's always thinking about others instead of herself. But instead of replying, I just take her face into my cold hands and pull her near enough to kiss.

I wrap my arms around her, sheltering her from the cold. She shivers just slightly.

And then she slips the dress off completely, along with her underwear. So now she stands before me, baring it all as she slips her heels off.

We stare at each other for a moment. Then she goes for my belt buckle, then my zipper and finally I am free of the fabric of my pants. I bend a little as I shove my boxers and kick my shoes off.

And just like that we both stand before one another, ready.

I feel her cold hands wrap around my waist as she pulls me in. I let my lips find hers and we are kissing again, slowly.

She grasps my hand once more and pulls it to her breast again. It's warm and soft as I gently pushed my palm into the supple tissue. She murmurs softly in my ear.

Then I feel her arms wrap around my neck, coming to rest in my hair. She softly pulls, threading and unthreading those fingers. And I can't help but gasp into her mouth.

And then she mischevously looks up at me as if to say, _you like that do you?_

I grin, trying to pull her closer. Yet she is pushing me away, pushing me down onto the park bench behind us. I follow her lead, pulling her soft body down onto mine.

She holds onto my shoulders steadily, letting those fingers dig into my skin. I groan, needing to be closer to her. So I rake the supple flesh of her thighs, letting her kisses fan out around my face.

Despite the cold, the heat between us is reaching a pinnacle. But I don't think about this as I reach out to stroke her wet, moist centre. And her delicate gasp resounds around us, filling the night air with substance.

It's like music to my ears. And I want to hear more of her sweet voice. So I stroke harder, letting my thumb circle her most sensitive spot. For this, I receive a single delectable moan.

And that one noise is enough to undo me. But she seems to want more as she rocks her hips just slightly. Then quickly, and without warning, she reaches down and strokes my length.

And I am not expecting this.

So my throaty groan shocks me a little. But it only spurs her further. She pulls me tighter, slipping into the arc my body makes for her. I feel her push down onto me, encasing my shaft bit by bit, ever-so-slowly.

Her walls are so tight, so warm as I fill her completely. And then we are joined, so impossibly close. I don't want to ever leave her.

But then she moves, gently pulling away only to thrust back down again. My eyes roll backwards and the strangest thought ran through my head. _Has she done this before?_

How can it not hurt her?

But then she does it again. She pulls away and then sinks down onto my length. Oh, the warmth. I can't enough. And so the thought doesn't cross my mind again.

Within one moment, our movements quicken and our senses heighten as she arcs into my chest. I feel her soft mounds touch my body only slightly, but it's enough to send the hair of my arms on end.

I use my hands to guide her hips in our movements. And I can feel her light breathing pick up, it's now laborious as she thrusts her head back, moaning into the darkness.

And there's something about the way that that looks, it has me on edge. I suddenly feel my eyes close slightly and the muscles in my stomach clench. I am bracing for impact.

The sensations force my hands to envelope her, caressing the smooth skin of her back, hips, waist, breasts and thighs. I want to explore her all at once. So I dig my face into the crook of her neck, inhaling as she whispers my name.

And she's still as tight as she moves on top of me, grasping my hair and face in her gentle grip. I want to plunge deeper, to touch her end. So I force my hips to meet hers, just once, but it's enough to have her gasp and moan all at once.

With that one move, her walls are constricting around me. Clenching and unclenching in their heavenly movements, they beckon me. And I am only too willing to oblige.

I let her name fall forth from my lips. 'Bella...'

She responds with a kiss, her tongue searching for mine in the enticing warmth.

I grip her thighs harder.

She pulls relentlessly at my hair.

I pull her down violently. Our bodies fit in a sort of perfection.

And she rests her head between my neck and shoulder as she grips me tightly, her breathing coming in rapid bursts as she comes violently.

There is something about the way she grips so hard, forcing her fingers into the surface of my skin that makes my stomach twist in knots. I can't help but clench my jaw as the twisting invades the rest of my body. And then she says my name again, only louder. It reverberates around the wood of the trees.

The electric-like feeling shoots up into the ends of my fingers. It spreads to my arms, feet, legs and face as it leaves soft tingles everywhere. And her walls are still contracting around me.

So I have reached my end.

I release into her, slowing my movements to enjoy the full effect.

And just for her, I let her name roll off my tongue.

So we stay like this for just a moment, letting our breathing settle.

Afterwards, I position us so that I cradle her in my arms, gently rocking her.

I stroke her soft hair, whispering in her ear as she lets her fingers grasp my bare chest. '_And earth, and stars, and sea, and sky are redolent of sleep, as I am redolent of thee and thine enthralling love, my Adeline_.'

The wedding could wait a little while.

**Right. So what did you guys think?**

**No more ED POV??**

**More ED POV??**

**Stupid?**

**Awful?**

**Good?**

**Great?**

**Excellent?**

**Should I stop? Keep going?**

**Any suggestions – I do try to take them in and work with what I've got, and they are much appreciated!**

**Anyway, lol. I just have to laugh at myself here: I put them on a park bench right? Talk about bloody splinters muahahaha.**

**Sorry, I get a little hyped up!**

**REVIEW S'IL TOUS PLAIS!!**


	8. Remembrance

**Remembrance**

**Hey everyone. Another chapter it is. Okay, so I am a little depressed about certain things with my own father and his stupidness, so this chapter might be a little depressing for you guys to read.**

**Other than that, this is inspired by Emily Bronte (for both her poetry and Wuthering Heights), The Verve Pipe (the freshman), Daniella of course and Slumdog Millionaire (Oh My Gosh).**

**And I just want to say thankyou to everyone who reviewed! I figured you'd prefer an update over me answering your comments. Don't worry, I will answer them... just as soon as I get this outta the way.**

_Bella Swan_

Sitting on my bed and thinking, is about to come my new favourite thing to do. Well, this and being with Edward.

_Being with Edward._

He is all I can think of as I lie with my back on my clean, crisp sheets. It's just the way he had held onto me, it was as though he was grasping at life itself.

It left me breathless as I lay in his warm arms. Who could have thought it would ever be beautiful?

Love was meant to be that way.

It wasn't just the act, but also the afterglow that followed. And it isn't just the sex, but the caressing of cheeks and kissing of lips that follows as well.

This much I have learnt.

I thought at first, perhaps it would be hard for me. _How do I let someone violate my body?_

But it was in no way violation. It was an all-encompassing moment of fervour between two people.

And I want it again and again.

Even as I sit here, the dawn breaking through the clouds, I cannot think about anything else.

Remembering the way his long, lean fingers explored my body is leaving me breathless. Between this and the sight of him bathing in the moon, I'm lost. Completely and utterly lost to him and only him.

I've been so caught up for hours, unable to sleep. Instead thinking about the heady scent that permeated our pores in the heat of our movements.

My memories mostly revolve around him. Except one. Coming back to the reception proved to be difficult. Alice just knew. I could see it.

Tanya, on the other hand, had left completely. She took Edward's car, leaving him stranded.

I will my thoughts away from her. Away from the most distant person I have ever met. I don't know whether she does it on purpose or not. But it leaves me confounded.

And I hear a stirring nearby. James is up.

I sigh, muttering breathlessly. Today should be interesting.

It's her birthday. Renee, my Mother, should be turning thirty-seven.

But she had died at thirty-one.

I hear footsteps pass my bedroom door. So, I sit up. I dress in my jeans and a better shirt.

I grab my poem from my desk.

It is her poem really. I spoke it over her grave every year.

Only this year, James wanted to be there too.

.

James wears his nicest jeans and a clean chequered shirt. It's red and white.

He doesn't speak the entire way there.

Her tombstone is square and concrete, solid in the earth. I bend down, place the folded piece of paper , her poem, down upon the grass before it and stand back up again.

_Hi, Mom._

She doesn't say a word. I don't expect it from her either. But I know she's listening.

'_Cold in the Earth – and the deep snow piled above thee, far, far removed, cold in the weary grave_.'

Emily Bronte's words break the silence. My voice strips the poem down. Then reforms it with its own ache.

James stands silently behind me. He hasn't spoken a word yet this morning.

'_Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, severed at last by time's all-serving wave?_'

I let the words pass through my lips. I look down, letting the numbness lace its fingers around my body, suffocating me.

There's a shuffling behind me. James exchanges his weight from one foot to another.

I continue my poem, letting my voice keep its even keel.

And then I come to the second half of the poem. The words could never make more sense to someone like me.

'_No later light has lightened up my heaven, no second morn has ever shone for me. All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given. All my life's bliss is in this grave with thee_.'

It had meant more than just words before.

But today, reading further, I truly understood the poem.

'_But, when the days of golden dreams had perished, and even Despair was powerless to destroy, then did I learn how existence could be cherished, strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy_.'

Perhaps I am at a turning point in my life.

I know what it means now.

So I slowly let her go, letting my words drift away with her.

'_Then did I check the tears of useless passion - weaned my young soul from yearning after thine; sternly denied its burning wish to hasten down to that tomb already more than mine._'

It had never held any meaning for me before. These lovely vowels in their flow were just words. But today they do mean something.

Today they speak to me.

So, in one final act of letting her go, I let a lone tear escape and venture forth, down my cold cheek.

I will do my best to move on. Forgetting her will never happen. But accepting and moving forward is all I can do.

'_And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain; once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, how could I seek the empty world again?_'

James clears his throat behind me.

So I move aside.

And he places a single red rose on the grass there, beside my poem.

We both just stare for a few moments.

And then he walks away.

I believe there is something to say about his one redeemable quality. It isn't much, but the way he loves my mother gets me like nothing else.

How is it possible to see a man like that the way I do?

I'll never know, I suppose. He really is the figure from Plath's poetry. How can you hate someone so much, but still desire their affection?

Yes, I know exactly what she was on about.

And I knew my problem.

I shouldn't want his affection. I shouldn't desire his attention. He doesn't deserve a single bit of it at all.

But this attempt at rationalising is in vain.

How can I not desire these things from the only man I can ever consider a father?

.

The day passes rather uneventfully.

Well, that is if you don't count the phone call from Alice that I tried to ignore.

But she is persistent. I believe it was six missed calls before I gave up and answered.

And then she badgered me the entire time. All she kept asking about was Edward.

I lied to her. There is no way she'll get it out of me.

Even with her promises not to tell anyone, I still kept my mouth shut.

There is no way I'm going to give up what I have with him.

And it's late, the dark outside is seeping in through my window.

And then, just as I go to put my phone away, I get a message.

This better not be Alice.

But it isn't, it's Edward.

And it's a strange message. He wants me to go out the front.

But I must sneak past James to do this.

I send him my reply, getting up and making my way silently down the stairs. I round the kitchen, sneaking my way toward the front door.

James is watching baseball on the television. The volume drowns out any movement I make. So, with confidence, I open the door and sneak outside.

He's isn't there yet.

So I ensure the porch light is off and sit down on the front steps.

I wait a few moments before I hear timid footsteps ploughing their way through the grass.

And then he rounds the corner, around the bush by the stairs.

He looks awful. His hair is dishevelled, his clothes are barely hanging off him and he's... he's... crying?

'Edward?' I whisper, careful of James sitting only behind the door.

He doesn't reply, but stops before me, grabbing me around the waist.

I don't know what to think. So instead I opt for not thinking, but wrapping my arms around him as he shudders into my chest.

I shush him, whispering in his ear. 'What's wrong?'

He sobs continually, his grasp on me almost hurting.

So I hold his face between my hands, beckoning his eyes to see mine.

He looks up, red rings encircle his irises. _What's happened?_

I bend down, lightly kissing his forehead. 'Tell me now.'

He waits a moment, gathering himself.

And then his voice breaks. 'You'll hate me.' It's barely a whisper.

'No I won't.'

I wait for him.

He finally breaks the silence. 'I slept with Tanya.'

And there it went.

My insides bleed from the deep gash he's caused. _Not him too._

No, I refuse to believe he would do it to me.

But I need to know.

'Why?'

He shakes his head a little. 'She _was _paying attention yesterday.'

I gasp. 'And..?'

He closes his eyes, pulling me closer to him. 'She noticed how I doted on you. She threatened to report me again, but also to have you expelled if I didn't comply with her demands.'

My jaw is now hanging agape. 'She threatened to... what?'

I feel his fingers grip my back. 'To have you expelled, her father is-'

'Principal Denali, I know.'

I sigh, completely at a loss for what to do now. 'So what does she want exactly?'

'Her perfect life. And my trust fund.'

I scoff. 'Your trust fund?'

He nods, taking a seat. 'She's even more tied to me and my money if she has a child to me.'

I start to get angry now, refusing to sit beside him. 'Can't you just leave her?' I have to whisper.

He shakes his head, resting it in his hands. 'No, she suspects something and leaving her will cause problems for you.'

Oh no, how had we let this happen?

I breathe out heavily. 'We'll have to make a run for it.'

He looks up at me, his eyes still red. 'You have to graduate first.'

I roll my eyes. 'No, I don't think that's such a great idea Edward.'

He returns his head to his hands, pulling at the ends. 'Well then, I will leave and you stay to graduate first. We can be together once you've graduated.'

I open my eyes wide in shock. 'No, no, you aren't leaving me here alone.'

I won't allow it.

He's my only safe haven.

'Well what do we do?' his voice is trembling.

I whisper to him now. 'I don't know.'

And then I hear a crash inside. James is shouting at the top of his lungs.

My eyes go wide. He can't find me in the house.

He'll come out here for sure.

I push at Edward, begging him to leave. 'You have to go.'

He looks confused, but hides in the bush nevertheless.

James pushes the front door open and stands before me puffing, absolutely livid.

'What are you doing out here?' he demands, breathlessly.

I grasp at anything. 'Just thinking about Mom.'

I have to mention her. That will disarm him. If he's angry that is.

So I calm my breathing, hoping he'll leave me be.

'You're thinking about her in the dark?' he asks sceptically, coming closer.

I nod, silently willing him to get bored with this. I don't want Edward to see.

James goes to grab my wrist. I yank it out of his grip, my voice trembling. 'It's her _birthday_.'

He thinks about this for a moment. Then he nods, back to his sullen mood. Once her birthday is over, he'll be back to normal.

But for now, I have more important things to deal with.

'I'll be in shortly.' I tell him as he turns slowly on his heel and walks back through the door.

Once he's gone, Edward returns from the bushes, his expression livid.

'What was that?' he growls.

I will my tears away, composing myself for him. 'It was nothing.'

'Fuck, that wasn't nothing.' He snaps in his whisper. 'Is he... is he physically hurting you?'

I increase my efforts in fighting back those tears. And I don't reply.

I don't want to lie to him.

But I also don't want to complicate our situation either.

He looks furious. 'Tell me, is he hurting you?'

I nod, but it's only slight, barely a movement at all.

His expression scares me.

His fists look as though they could hit something. I cower as his jaw locks. He's furious.

'How could you not tell me?' he whispers through clenched teeth.

I shrug. 'I don't talk about it.'

His jaw unclenches, only to tighten again.

Then he starts to move toward the front door.

My hearts splutters in my chest. What is he doing?

My body doesn't move until his hands are on the door knob, turning it.

In a flash, I jump up, pulling him back. 'No Edward, don't.'

He struggles to free himself of my grasp, but he manages to nonetheless.

'You can't expect me to stand back and let this happen.'

'Yes, I can.' I hiss at him.

He's free of me now. So I push in between him and the door. 'Think about how you're complicating everything.'

He stops short. 'This isn't about that. It's about you being safe.'

I scoff at him. 'If you want me to be safe, then you'll leave and not say anything okay?'

He looks at me, incredulous. 'How will that make you safe?'

'Because you won't be dragged away by the police in an attempt to kill him.'

He huffs. 'Damn right, I'm going to kill him.'

I scramble for the right words.

I mean, what would he do if he found out that James touched me as well?

I couldn't handle it.

'Just go home, Edward.'

'No.'

I use the last thing I have. 'It's my mother's birthday. Please, don't make a huge thing out of this today. Just not today.'

I feel his hands grip me around the hips, ready to lift me out of the way. 'Why shouldn't I? What he's doing is so wrong Bella. God, can't you see that?'

I sigh, defeated. 'Yes, I can. But I don't want you caught up in this as well.'

I grab at his face, attempting to placate him. 'Think about how this will go if you go in there.'

His jaw locks again. 'I'll kill him.'

I roll my eyes. 'And where would that leave us?'

'It would leave you safer.'

I growl at him. 'No, it would leave you in jail, and me, stuck out here on my own.'

His whole body softens. 'You're right.'

I let out my breath, relieved.

He looks right at me, his eyes searching. 'I'm reporting this.'

I let my eyes bore into his. 'If that's what you want.'

'No, I want to kill him.'

'Maybe in another life,' I push at his shoulders, wishing he would hurry up and leave the porch.

'At least don't stay here tonight, I can take you to Alice's or even Jasper's.'

I think about this for a moment. 'Okay, but can I tell him where I am going by myself?'

'No, you're not telling him anything. You're coming with me now.'

'But my school things...' I trail off, pointing to the door.

He shakes his head. 'You want to risk a run in between us?'

'No, I guess not.'

He holds his hand out, beckoning me with his eyes. 'Let's go.'

I take it, turning away from the only place I knew as home.

He leads me down the street, toward his silver car.

I turn to him, still holding his hand. 'Edward,' I whisper, 'please, can we go to Alice's. Jasper has no idea about any of this. He'll be as furious as you.'

He nods solemnly. 'As long as you're not here.' He squeezes my hand comfortingly.

Once we are at the car, I slide in and buckle up.

Then I watch as the house disappears from sight.

There it goes.

My past falls behind me and yet my future is so very scary.

But it's with Edward. Well, almost, we're nearly there.

And he pulls me out of my musings. 'Everything is going to be okay.' He gently grabs my hands and holds it above the middle console.

'I know.'

Just outside Alice's house, Edward parks the car. We stand outside in the dark.

He looks tortured. 'I can't believe I didn't see this.'

My breathing hikes. 'It's not your fault.'

He runs his hands through his hair. 'And I just take you without thinking. I'm so selfish.'

Great, now he's punishing himself.

I grab his hands form his hair, pulling them towards me. 'If it wasn't for you, I would still be there with him.'

His eyes soften as they take me in.

I know this is going to be difficult for him. 'What's happened has happened. Let's not dwell.'

I pull him into my arms. 'As you said, everything will be okay.'

His breathing is laboured as I hold him to me, feeling his hard chest as it touches mine. I dare to kiss his cheek, soothing him.

He titters. 'You're attempting to comfort _me_?'

I nod. 'You need it, mister.'

He just rolls his eyes. 'Come on, let's get you to safety.'

'I'm already safe.'

'You know what I mean,' he playfully growls.

As we ascend the driveway, we walk a careful few feet apart. There's no need for more drama tonight.

Edward looks over to me as he gently rings the doorbell. 'At least it isn't too late for visitors.'

I smirk. 'You're pathetic.'

He looks at me sheepishly. 'Just trying to make a joke.'

Truth is, it's way too late for visitors.

Mrs. Brandon answers the door in her fluffy pink robe. I smile, standing awkwardly next to Edward.

'Oh, hi there Mr. Cullen,' she nods at Edward and then at me, 'Bella, I believe?'

I nod my head in return, letting Edward deal with this.

He does, and very well I might say.

'Mrs. Brandon, is Alice home?'

She looks a little shocked. But nonetheless invites us in.

After a moment of us sitting awkwardly in her living room, she returns with a pyjama clad Alice bouncing in her wake.

'Bella?' her voice is hoarse with sleep.

Edward lightly taps me, telling me to go with Alice.

I do as he says and follow Alice up the stairs.

As soon as we come to a stop before an open door, she turns on me. 'What's going on?'

I sigh and walk into the dark. She turns the light on.

'Edward is down stairs telling your mom about it all.'

She looks at me sceptically. 'Edward?'

My breathing hikes. Whoops. 'Umm, Mr. Cullen.'

She narrows her eyes. 'So why is he down there, and what's he saying?'

I hold my breath as I tell her. 'He's stopping himself from killing my step father.'

Her eyes go wide. 'What?'

'He caught him handling me a little roughly and he put a few clues together.' I just shrug.

Alice's face contorts into anger. 'Handling you a little roughly?'

I sit down on her bed. 'Yeah, so now I'm here and Edward is going to file a report against him.'

I watch as she blinks twice, shocked. 'Shit, Bella. Are you okay?'

I bite my lower lip. I think I am. 'Yeah.'

She holds my hand in hers. 'I know you aren't the talkative type. But so you know... I'll always listen.'

I look up to meet her gaze. 'I know, and thank you.'

She leaves me to run over to her drawer and pull out some article of clothing. 'Since you're probably staying here. Put these on.'

She chucks me a pair of pyjamas.

And then Edward walks in half-way during my changing.

I'm not fazed and I know he wouldn't be either, but we have to keep out facade going.

I fake a little startled noise and pull the pants up quickly. 'Mr. Cullen.'

He looks as though he's about to laugh, but notices Alice standing behind me. 'Oh. Sorry, Bella.'

Once I'm dressed, he comes in to speak to me. 'Alice, your mother wants to see you downstairs.'

She scrambles to pull herself together, but then quickly jumps up and leaves us.

Edward comes towards me. In teacher mode. 'I told Mrs. Brandon everything she needed to know. I am leaving you here. You'll stay with Alice until the time comes where this all breezes over.'

I look at him, a little shocked. 'Okay, so until I graduate?'

He nods. 'Then everything will be fine.'

And I believe him.

He quickly kisses my forehead and leaves me.

I want to follow, but I know I can't. So I just stand and watch him as he leaves.

We will figure everything out.

But Alice returns not too long later.

'Holy crow.' She sighs as she walks in. 'This is intense.'

I just look at her.

'So, you're staying with me until you graduate.'

I smile only for her benefit. 'Yeah, so Mr. Cullen told me.'

'Hmmm well, I'm beat.' She says as she flops down onto her bed, pulling the covers out for me.

I slide in. 'Lucky you have a huge bed.'

She giggles. 'I know, right?'

I roll my eyes. And then the light goes out. Alice rolls over and sighs. 'Goodnight Bella. Sweet dreams.'

I close my eyes, feeling the cold sheets under me. 'Goodnight, Alice.'

And my last thought, as I drift off into the dreamland, is of my mother.

Would she be proud of me?

I guess I'll never know.

But now is not the time to dwell.

_Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, how could I seek the empty world again?_

**OKAY, so what did you think?**

**tell me please.**

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	9. A Prayer for My Daughter

**A Prayer for My Daughter**

**Hey everyone! I am updating again because I know it's what you would like!!! LOL. Anyway, I think you may like this chapter – I have been thinking about it all day at work today and I finally got home and have been writing wooo!**

**Okay, so this one is inspired by William Butler Yeats, 'Push' by Matchbox Twenty, Looking for Alibrandi (the film, as I haven't read the book... yet) and Daniella, my saucy minx.**

**With this out of the way. Please read, and then review!!!**

**Oh, there is a huge surprise in this chapter, so I better get a bunch of reviews for it ;)**

_Bella Swan_

The morning sun filters through Alice's window and onto her sleeping form. Her eyes are clenched tightly shut and her mouth is hanging slightly open.

I can't help but chuckle at the sight.

Still amused, I look over to her Minnie Mouse alarm clock and sigh. It's seven already.

I won't be seeing Edward this morning.

But in all honesty, that was the best sleep I had had in a very long time. Perhaps it had something to do with being away from that house, or even it was just from being next to someone like Alice.

I briefly wonder if sleeping next to Edward would be any better.

_Perhaps it might be._

But as I talk to myself silently, the previous mentioned alarm starts blaring, the silver knob smashing from side to side very sharply. I hold my hands over my throbbing ears.

Even that doesn't drown out the sound.

And Alice sleeps right through it. _What the?_

I nudge her. 'Alice, turn that stupid thing off.'

She sleepily slaps my hand away, murmuring something incoherent.

So I push her until her eyes open. Expecting to see a drowsy Alice sit up slowly, I get a huge shock.

Alice bolts upright too quickly for me to comprehend.

And not even with her tired eyes closed. No, she has to be wide eyed and awake.

She doesn't even give me a chance to speak. 'Bella... Amazing, it really did happen last night.'

I scratch my temple. 'What..?'

'Oh, I thought I might have dreamt all of what had happened during the night.'

'Right,' I murmur, still a little groggy. 'So school then?'

Alice rolls out of her side of the bed and turns to face me. 'Hmmm... I should probably ask mom about today.'

'What's wrong with going to school?' I ask her, puzzled. I have to see Edward.

She sighs, thinking through her reason. 'Well, won't James come to look for you?'

I hadn't thought of this.

'Oh, right.'

She turns on her heel in the next moment, making her way out of the room and downstairs.

I sit in silence. I just keep wondering about Edward and how long it will be until I see him again.

_It shouldn't be too long, right?_

But I am broken from my musings as Alice bounces in, her chipper mood back again.

She speaks before I do. 'We both aren't going to school today.'

I don't say anything, but wait for her to elaborate.

She does, naturally. 'Mr. Cullen would rather me be there with you, when we report James.'

I don't think before I reply, a little too sharply. 'When _we_ report James?'

Alice just nods, standing limply in her pyjamas by my side of the bed. 'We're supposed to be going to police station instead of the clinic, because... you know.'

'James works there.' I sigh, more defeated than I have ever felt. 'I don't know if I want to report him just yet... I don't know. Maybe give me a little while to settle down first.'

She smiles a half-hearted smile. 'He said you would say that.'

I grimace. 'He knows me too well.'

Alice narrows her eyes. 'How would he know you so well?'

'Well he got it out about James didn't he?'

She huffs. 'I suppose... But I still think there is something fishy going on there.'

'Not today, Alice,' I snap angrily. Her face falls in just the slightest.

Oh no. 'I'm sorry, Alice. I don't mean to snap.'

She recovers quite easily. 'It's okay. I know that you must be feeling pretty awful.'

Actually, I feel numb. But I don't tell her that.

Instead, I embrace today for all it is. 'So is your mom taking us?'

Alice looks sideways, trying to avoid my gaze. 'This is where it is going to be a little awkward.'

'What is it?' I breathe.

She smirks a little. 'Mr. Cullen is taking us.'

I roll my eyes. 'How is that going to be awkward?'

Her eyes pop out of her head. 'He's our English teacher, duh.'

I snort. 'So...?'

She grunts, exasperated. Clearly I don't get what she's saying. 'Well, he'll be here shortly. So I guess we need to get dressed.'

'Right, okay then.'

.

Half an hour later and Alice is still rushing to get ready.

By this time, I am already downstairs and waiting in the foyer. 'Come on, Alice... He'll be here any moment.'

'I'm coming,' her muffled voice sounds from somewhere upstairs. 'I can't find my Burberry Jacket.'

I roll my eyes. 'Have you looked down here?' I eye it warily as it hangs on the hook of the coat stand by the front door.

It has that signature Burberry look. The beige, the stripes, the cut. Very stylish. And so Alice.

Speaking of the devil, she stumbles down the staircase, clad in business-like wear and clutching her purse to her chest. 'I'm ready now... Wait, have you seen my jacket?'

I pull it off the rack. 'Is this it?'

A look of relief dawns upon her face. 'Oh my, I can't believe you found it.'

I snort. 'You're neurotic.'

'And, your point is...?'

I just roll my eyes and open the front door. There's the silver Volvo in Alice's driveway. And there's Edward walking towards us, along the pebbled pathway.

'Mr. Cullen!' Alice chirps.

He looks up. His eyes are warm, and comforting... like home. 'Hey there, Alice. Bella...' He nods to us each respectively.

I smile in return, following Alice over to his car.

But Edward starts to speak. 'Alice, your mother isn't coming?'

She shook her head. 'She had to be at work this morning.'

'Right. Well then, let's get going.'

I slid into the front seat after Alice insisted on preferring the back.

I snuggle into the familiar black leather, inconspicuously smelling its rich fragrance. Edward's car is now my favourite place.

As he began to pull away from the curb, Alice spoke up behind us. 'I heard a rumour that we have a new police chief in town.'

We both turn our heads at the same time. 'What..?'

She just shrugs as Edward goes back to concentrating on the road. 'I don't know his name, but he's supposed to be taking over Chief Roberts.'

I look at Edward, watching his hands as they gently grip the steering wheel. 'Why did Roberts leave?'

Alice murmurs, 'I'm not sure exactly. But I did get the impression that it had something to do with corruption.'

Edward snorts. 'Corruption? Here in Forks?'

I hear her shrugging movements against the leather of the backseat. 'That's what I thought, but Mom was adamant about it. Apparently he got asked to leave.'

Well things were starting to change everywhere.

I thought about this as I turn towards Edward, letting Alice's silhouette grace my peripherals. 'Is this new chief going to be the person we report James to?'

He nods. 'I believe so.'

And then, without noticing the time, we were outside the police station. 'Here we are Bella,' Edward sighs, probably just as nervous as I am.

We climb out, shutting the doors behind us.

Edward leads us towards the front doors and into the reception. He guides us over to a row of seats against a wall. 'I won't be a minute.'

We watch him stride over to the front desk. He bends over a little, keeping his voice quiet.

Alice still struggles to hear it. 'I want to know what he's saying.' She defends, as I raise my eyebrows at her.

But only a few moments later, he comes back towards us. 'Bella, you can wait in his office if you like, he won't be long.'

I flit my eyes around nervously. 'By myself?'

'Yes, this part you have to do by yourself. I know you can do this.' He sits beside me, careful not to touch me in front of Alice. His eyes look sad.

And I know he wants to be in there with me. But he can't be.

So I lift myself up, dragging my feet as I walk into the dimly lit office. Only a lamp upon the desk illuminates the clinical office.

Everything is so quiet. Only the shuffling of papers outside can be heard.

I walk around the little room, exploring its secrets.

His desk is almost clean. There are a few papers placed haphazardly over its surface. But no pictures. No photo frames. No post-it notes. Nothing to prove he lives, has a family or anything.

However, there's a noticeboard on the wall, just above his moderately organised desk.

I walk over to peer at the few notices he has stuck to the cork-like surface.

There's a missing person. A few raffle tickets. A flyer for the local camping and fishing store - the Newton's shop. But there's nothing remotely personal, such as a photo of his children, his wife or pets. If he had any.

Except there is a poem stuck to its surface.

And I know this one.

It's William Butler Yeats. We had studied him in English with Edward earlier in the year.

'_A Prayer for My Daughter_,' I whisper, forgetting my surroundings. '_Once more the storm is howling, and half hid under this cradle-hood and coverlid. My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle, but Gregory's wood and one bare hill_.'

I imagine a little room, dimly lit like this one. There's moonlight seeping through the open window as a baby lies sleeping in a bassinette.

She breathes in and out so softly, it is almost silent. But the pacing of her father stirs sound as his shoes grace the cream carpet.

I shake my head. And the image disappears.

So I lift the thin piece of paper as it's still attached to the board.

Underneath its crinkled surface is a photo. _Just what I need to see,_ I think to myself.

And just like the image in my head, the photo depicts a baby wrapped in pink blankets, lying asleep within a bassinette.

_He has a daughter._

I read over the poem, looking for my favourite part.

'_Considering that all hatred driven hence. The soul recovers radical innocence, and learns at once that it is self-delighting, self-appeasing, self-affrighting_.' I whisper, yet again.

But another's whisper startles me from behind. It is deeper, not like Edward's, but hoarser. '_And that its own sweet will, is heaven's will. She can, though every face should scowl, and every windy quarter howl or every bellow's burst, be happy still_.'

I whip my head around to see the intruder.

And he is inexplicably close.

Those deep brown, nearly black eyes startle me as they appraise my face.

He looks to be about forty. His dark, almost black hair is cropped short around his face and ears. There are two thick brows that frame his eyes.

He feels so familiar.

Not like I have seen him before, but like I've always known him.

My voice escapes me as he smiles a crinkly grin. 'Bella, how are you?'

I just nod my head. 'I'm fine, chief.' I barely choke out.

'Just call me Charlie.'

Charlie. So familiar.

'Okay, Charlie,' I breathe out slowly.

He motions for me to sit. So I follow his directions and take a seat before his desk.

'I just have to write some things out first, before we start. It will require me to ask a few questions.' He looks up to me now, grasping a pen in his right hand.

'Okay,' I nod, folding my hands nervously in my lap.

'What's your full name?' He doesn't look up as he asks me. 'Just for our records...'

'Isabella Marie Swan,' I say softly, it's almost a whisper.

His pen stops as I say my last name.

But he doesn't look up. He proceeds to ask another question. 'When were you born?'

'September thirteenth, nineteen-ninety.' My voice trembles.

And he stiffens, those wide shoulders are taut. 'Mother and father's names?'

I breathe in a huge gust of air. 'My mother's name was Renee Dwyer.'

But I pause.

'_Was_?' he asks, and those eyes tired, hopeless as I look into them.

'She died when I was twelve.' It is barely a whisper.

He looks back down, carefully avoiding my gaze. 'And your father?'

I sigh dejectedly, gripping my hands around one another in my lap. 'I never knew him.'

He clears his throat. I look up. His eyes are red, as though tears may be welling there.

I drive the notion away.

'Aren't you meant to be writing this down?' I fain some sort of humour to lessen the tension in the room.

He looks back down at my words. 'Yes, I am.'

The air is still thick with tension, but he continues to question me. 'Tell me about your step father, James?'

My eyes anxiously flit around the room, refusing to look directly at Charlie. 'There isn't much to tell.'

His voice sounds carefully neutral. 'I believe there is, please tell me.'

I look into my lap, dreading what I have to say next.

'He works for the clinic.'

'I know he does.'

I sigh. 'He hits me sometimes.'

I look up momentarily to see his fingers gripping the pen tightly, the flesh there turning white under the strain.

'Can you tell me about a particular time?'

I ran through my many memories, most of them ending with him doing more than just hitting.

I don't think I could handle telling him that just yet.

So I settle for one particular instance that occurred just after my fourteenth birthday. James hadn't started touching me yet, but it wasn't long before it.

'Once, only a couple of years after my mother died, he was upset about something at work and he had come home drunk.' I cross my legs and fold my arms in on themselves.

'He also didn't like me having the television on before he got home. So needless to say, when he came in, reeking of rum, he pulled the television off the entertainment unit. It smashed all over the floor, shards of glass and pieces of plastic flying across the floor boards...'

My voice fades out as I relive the memory.

But Charlie looks directly at me, his eyes kind. 'Go on.'

'At this time, I am still sitting on the couch with notes for history on my lap.' I look up and he encourages me with a gentle nod of his head.

'He gripped my shoulders and pulled me up to him so that his face was barely inches from mine. He growls in my face, saying something about me knowing that the television isn't meant to be on before he gets home and then he puts me down.'

I feel my insides squirm as I realise what I have to say next.

'But as he puts me down, I ask him why. I wanted to know why I couldn't have it on. And he doesn't like to be questioned, so he dug his fingertips into this shoulder,' I say quietly as I indicate which shoulder, 'and he slaps this side of my cheek.' I indicate my left cheek.

'What happened then?' Charlie asks, leaning over the desk in apprehension.

I gather myself, swallowing hard. 'The force of his hit caused the capillaries in the skin of my cheek to rupture, and I started bleeding in my mouth.

'But it wasn't the bleeding that he cared about. It was the fact that I recoiled at his hit. He thought I couldn't take a good hit and that I needed to toughen up.'

I look back down to my fidgeting hands. 'So he broke one of my fingers.'

I hear Charlie swallow thickly. 'Can you show me?'

I look up and nod, passing my hand over to him to see. My ring finger on my left hand was slightly crooked from the break. 'He said he would rather leave me something to cry about on my wedding day. He thought by breaking it, that no rings would fit on there.'

I smile a little. 'But it healed almost perfectly. Just the slight bend won't stop a ring at all.'

He smiles briefly and it doesn't reach his eyes. 'Where are you staying now?'

I smile properly now. 'With Alice and her mother.'

'That's good,' he says, a little happier, 'how long have you been there?'

'Just a couple of hours.'

His eyes bulge out of his head in shock. 'You only just left?'

I nod.

'How have you put up with that for so long?' he asks, utterly shocked.

'I had nowhere else to go,' I defend myself.

Charlie settles down at that. 'So you will be there with Alice from now on, you won't go back?'

'I believe so,' I ponder his words. 'But after graduation it might be a little difficult. I might just get a job and find my own place. I don't want to impose.'

Charlie looks flabbergasted at my words. 'No college?'

I shake my head. 'Why would I go to college?'

He doesn't say anything. Instead he looks to be contemplating something.

I look around nervously.

He finally speaks after a few moments of deliberation. 'Bella, I need you to tell me something.'

I let my eyes focus upon his. 'Okay.'

'If James does this to you, tell me... does he... do other things?'

My heart-rate speeds up. But I ignore it. Instead, I focus myself on seeming confused. 'Like what?'

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 'Like touch you or anything.'

I refuse to meet his gaze. 'So what if he does?'

His face hardens, realising that I didn't deny it. 'I need to know. Because we are pressing charges if he has.'

My eyes flit upwards, staring into his. 'Pressing charges?'

He nods solemnly.

My fingers start to tremble from where they sit comfortably in my lap. 'I don't want to talk about this anymore.'

'You don't want to press charges?'

I grimace. 'I don't know. I think I do, but then I am scared. I don't want all this.' I feel the tears leaking out the corners of my eyes. 'I just want it all to end.'

He smiles sadly. 'And reliving it isn't helping, is it?'

I shake my head, wiping at the tears with my fingers. 'It's not.'

'Okay, but I am going to speak with your teacher, Mr. Cullen, and I am going to ask him to organise some counselling for you.'

'I don't think that's necessary,' I tell him as I stand to leave.

He breathes out heavily. 'I think it is.'

I turn around and don't give him another minute. 'I'll get him for you then.'

I walk out, frustrated.

**Okay, so that's the next instalment to the story.**

**I am going to start writing my next one right now.**

**But for author's notes:**

**Firstly, know that Charlie knows Bella is his daughter, but he is scared to tell her this as he doesn't want to burden her with it. Note that the next chapter will get a little more insight into his personality and choices.**

**Also, I plan on having the story go a little lighter... mainly because I need a reprieve from being depressed so much.**

**But once the fluff is out of the way, I will go back to the story as it unfolds.**

**Phew, I think that may be why I haven't written for a while. Just need to lighten up a bit. Lol.**

**So if you liked it, hated it, think it needs a little something – don't be afraid to review and tell me.**

**So basically guys, tell me what you would like to see happen.**

**I can't guarantee that it will go that way, mainly because the characters have a mind of their own, but I can give them some more options... so let me know what you think and I'll ask them.**

**...They might really like your ideas...**

**So Review to your heart's content.**


	10. The Forbidden Lover

**The Forbidden Lover**

**Hey everyone! Well another instalment! And you know I couldn't get into my account for a about a week! So I couldn't update, I know. WTF?**

**Okay, so this chapter is an Edward POV and it is inspired by Tonic's 'If you could only see', Three Doors Down's 'let me go', Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet and of course, my minx - Daniella (love you x).**

**Yay, Slumdog Millionaire won eight Oscars. OMG. LOL I'm so glad it won so many!! **

**Anyway, there is a rating M for a reason and I believe you guys would like some more ED and B time *hint hint***

**OH, and I can't forget to mention Iris, from the Goo Goo Dolls, ah oh my, just the film clip – Mum and I think it's absolutely amazing/incredibly hot. **

**Mum btw, thought that the Black Eyed Peas did 'Barbie Girl'. I know, right? I totally disown her.**

**Anyway, onto it!**

Edward Cullen

Bella closes the door behind her as she resurfaces from the office.

Her long wavy hair looks a little different today. Perhaps she used Alice's hair products this morning.

Either way, it looks nice.

But her eyes are downcast as she makes her way over to us. It's as though she is purposefully avoiding my gaze.

And then she is wringing her hands nervously in front of her.

I hope she is okay.

So I sit up a little in my chair, avoiding Alice's scrutinising gaze. But I need to know that Bella is okay.

She timidly paces the few steps over towards us and stops before me. 'He wants to see you.'

I bite my lip a little, wondering. 'Did he say why?'

She shrugs slightly, coming down to sit beside Alice. 'Just something about counselling...'

'Okay.' Saying as I nod my head, a little too seriously. 'Sure, I'll be back in a minute. Alice...can you just sit...'

I watch her grin from her seat, ruffling her spiky hair. 'Of course...' and she clasps Bella's hand with her own as they sit there together, silently.

What I wouldn't give to hold her hand like Alice is.

But I can.

Well, actually, I can't. Not yet, not when anyone else can see.

God, I can't wait until she graduates.

But I let the thought leave me as I enter the Chief's office. I hadn't yet asked his name.

I see him reading something on his desk. So I take a seat and wait.

Eventually, he exhales a long and very loud breath, bringing his eyes to meet mine. 'Mr. Cullen.'

I nod my head. 'Chief...?'

He ungracefully clears his throat, rubbing his eyes. 'I have yet to get my plaque for my desk. So just call me Charlie for now.'

'Alright then, Charlie...' I let it linger in the air between us.

'So, I have spoken with Bella,' he stutters her name just a little, 'and I think she might need some professional counselling.'

I nod my head. 'I agree, sir.'

He corrects me. 'Charlie.'

'Okay, Charlie,' I breathe.

He is silent for a moment, appraising me. 'I have decided that it is best if Bella presses charges.'

'I agree that it is the best idea. But, is it your decision to make?' I ask him as politely as possible.

'No, but I believe with a little counselling, perhaps Bella may be well enough to take the stand.'

I take this in, feeling my eyes go wide. 'You think it will get to that?'

He nods. 'I believe that James may plead not guilty in order to save his career.'

I ponder over this for a moment. 'So are you taking him into custody?'

I watch as his knuckles go white, straining in his grip. 'Most definitely.'

My breathing hikes. 'And him knowing that Bella is pressing charges won't pose any threat to her if he's in custody, will it?'

He sighs, looking down. 'There is the chance that he will be let out on bail.'

I feel a heavy weight lodge in my throat. 'How do we keep Bella safe?'

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows. 'We will have to deal with that when it comes. But, for now, Mr. Cullen, I think it best if Bella is taken to a therapist.'

He fiddles around with some cards on his desk. 'Take this, call the number and ask for a Dr. Fisher. He should see Bella within the next couple of days.'

I nod my head, taking the card from him. 'And should Bella go back to school in the meantime?'

'No, not until I take him into custody. I guess she should go back to Alice's – '

But there is a knock on the door that cuts him off.

The policewoman from the reception is stepping into the office, holding a thick folder. 'Chief Swan, I have the Tapas file.'

I do a double take. 'Chief Swan?'

The policewoman freezes, noting the definite tense air between us.

I ignore her as she backs out of the room.

I try to calm my breathing. 'Charlie... Swan?'

On one hand I hope that I heard correctly. On the other, I don't know why I feel so infuriated.

He notices my eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

But he doesn't say a word. Rather, he nods slightly.

I feel my eyebrows furrowing, causing a right awful headache. 'So you may as well be... be...her father, right?'

I don't let him answer. 'So this is why you have come here, to Forks?'

He breathes out a resounding sigh. 'It is.'

I feel myself scoff. 'So, have you told her yet?'

He shakes his head, dejected. 'No, I don't want to burden her with more to worry about.'

I relax my fingers a little. 'I can understand that. But do tell me, how long have you known she's your daughter?'

He stiffens just slightly, almost unnoticeably. 'For fifteen minutes.'

I raise an eyebrow in question. 'What..?'

He bites his lower lip, just like Bella does. 'I knew I had a daughter, but I didn't know her full name, who she was living with or anything. I knew nothing about her. I mean, I even assumed she would have kept her mother's last name. I only knew her as Isabella from the photos her mother would send.'

'So how did you know that was her?'

He shrugs. 'She has my last name, and when I asked about her mother, I found that she had kept her maiden name...Dwyer. Whether or not she remarried, I don't know.

A pause. He looks downward, carefully avoiding my eyes.

'But somehow, I always knew Renee would come back here. So I built up enough courage and relocated, hoping to find her and the daughter she took from me.'

I watch as his hands fiddle around each other on the desk, nervous like I've known Bella to be. He looks almost sheepish in his actions. So I connect the two. 'You still love her mother, don't you?'

His eyes linger near the bookcase to my right and then back again, as though making some sort of decision. 'Yes, I suppose I still do.'

I sigh, completely lost in it all. 'But Bella told you about her death?'

He nods solemnly. 'She did. '

Another pause, this time more lengthy.

'But I have realised that sorting through Bella's issues is more important at the moment, than dwelling on lost love... no matter how deep my scars.'

I took one long look at Charlie Swan.

He is the man that Bella needs right now.

Not me, definitely not James and not anybody else.

The perpetually searching, selfless father.

Charlie Swan.

I stand up, reaching out my hand. 'Chief, I understand.' It is almost breathless as I shake his thick hand. 'But please, Bella does need to know the truth... This may be the solution to many of her problems.'

He smiles a friendly smile, just like Bella's. 'Not to worry, Mr. Cullen. There will be a time soon where she feels safe and loved in my care, just like she should be. But scaring her away is the last thing I want to do.'

He fixes his gaze on mine, pulling away from our hand shake. 'I just would like to do this on my own terms.'

I give him my best crooked smile, trusting him without a doubt. 'I'll hold you to it. And please, call me Edward.'

We shake hands, man to man. And then he leads me out, back into the startling daylight.

.

Bella and Alice sit huddled together, poring over a magazine.

I don't want to interrupt them, so I lean against a nearby wall and watch from a distance.

Bella sits unnaturally still as Alice fixates on the glossy pages, turning them gently. They are about an inch apart as Alice points to particular pictures, her eyes going wide every now and then.

But Bella looks more bored than I have ever seen her.

It must be a fashion magazine.

Typical.

But then she turns to the side and picks up a different magazine, I miss seeing the cover however.

Bella flicks through casually, just looking at the pictures I assume.

And then she looks up, smiling just for me.

Everything I want to say just runs from my mind as I walk over and take a seat by her.

She looks sideway at me, the depths of those brown eyes deep enough to swim in. 'What did he say?'

I hold out my hand for the magazine, taking it from her. 'I'll tell you in the car.'

She shrugs. 'Okay.'

But Alice is still absorbed in her magazine.

Bella nudges her and she looks up. 'Oh, you're back.'

'Yeah, I am going to drop you off home.'

Bella turns to me quickly, watching me carefully. I avoid her gaze.

'Can I go to school?' Alice asks innocently.

I smirk. 'Does this have anything to do with Jasper?'

'Maybe.' She looks down, smirking.

I roll my eyes, but silently rejoice in the new circumstance. I could spend more time with Bella now.

'Okay, let's go then.'

.

I let Alice out by the front car park at the school. 'I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow,' she chirps.

'Bye, Alice.'

And then it is just Bella and I together in the car.

I slowly pull away from the curb, driving toward Alice's place.

'We don't have to go to Alice's, do we?' she asks me quietly from the passenger's seat.

I think about this for a moment. 'No, we don't. Why, what did you want to do?'

She shrugs. 'Anything, as long as it's with you.'

I sigh. 'Okay then.'

I wait a moment before speaking again, but she beats me to it. 'What did Charlie say about counselling?'

I rip my attention away from the road and turn to see her looking defeated. 'Well, he's pressing charges. So, I suppose it might be healthy for you to see someone before you get up in front of everybody and testify.'

She seems to fold into herself as she turns away from me to look out the window. 'What if I don't want to press charges?'

I'm not prepared for this. 'Well...'

A pause.

'Perhaps it might be... best.'

She turns to me now, tears welling in her eyes. 'I just want to forget about it all.'

With the sight of her tears, I pull the car over and into the thick of the forest that borders the road.

Unsure how to approach, I sit still for a few moments, just watching the back of her head as she looks away from me.

'Bella...'

She doesn't move, or stir at all.

'Please, look at me.'

Slow enough for her hair to sway softly in her movements, she turns her head to face me.

My heart sinks at the sight of her wet cheeks. I decide to take a different angle.

'Bella, if _we_ press charges, then he will be locked up. You can be free to go to school, live normally and have a better chance at healing.'

'But I don't want to relive it all.'

I look down at my hands in my lap, mulling over details. 'I'll be there with you the whole way through.'

She closes her eyes and a few stray tears slip over onto her cheeks. 'How can you be there the whole way, Edward?'

I bite my lip, attempting to reach out to her. 'I'll be there whenever you need me. When you go back for more questioning, every time you see a counsellor, every day at school...'

But she flinches away from my touch. 'But remember your wife?'

There it is.

I stop my attempt to comfort her. Instead, I open my door and hop out.

I make my way over to the forest opening, forcing my way into the green depths.

I vaguely hear the other car door shut as I stride through the dense mass of trees and ferns.

I can hear her behind me.

I slow down just slightly, but not enough for her to come up right behind me.

It's just enough to know she's there and not hurt.

I keep up my almost angry footsteps, crunching through fallen leaves and thudding on moss beds.

All the while I find myself running through everything detail of this new situation.

Charlie Swan is her father. Her step father, James is abusing her at home. Tanya is holding her over my head. Yet I can't find the strength to stay away.

Because I am her forbidden lover.

How had I let things get so fucked up? Only God knows.

I hear her puffs and pants behind me. 'Edward... wait.'

I turn around in the mossy thickness.

I don't say anything. I just watch her as she catches up.

She reaches me and takes my hand. 'Don't be mad.'

I shake my head at her. 'I'm not mad.' She raises her eyebrows at me, incredulous. 'Well, at least not at you. It's more the situation.'

I feel her head come to rest on my chest as she wraps her frail arms around me. 'I know. But can we please just forget everything for a little while?'

I reach down to hold her face in the palms of my hands. 'Okay.'

Then I wrap my arms around her, bringing her soft body closer to mine.

We stand silently for only a few moments before I feel her smirk against my chest.

I pull away to see her face, but she has turned away already. 'Follow me,' I hear her breathe quietly. 'Let's forget everything.'

And then she is gone.

I follow her into the shadowy realms of the forest, only her mellow laughter as my guide.

'Bella..?' I ask into the thick air about me. 'Where are you?'

And then I feel a gentle pressure around my waist as her arms wrap around me from behind.

I attempt to turn to her and assess her new mood. 'Bella, what are –'

'Shhh,' she silences me. 'You need to be quiet now.'

I turn around to see her with a mischievous grin gracing her face. 'Come with me.'

I follow as she beckons me.

She leads me through more dense forest until we meet the edges of what seems to be a clearing.

It's only small in size, but there is light ahead. 'Bella, how did you –'

I feel a slight push on my chest as she pokes me. 'I told you to be quiet.'

I stop talking, smiling despite myself. 'Okay.'

'Shhh.'

I roll my eyes.

But I follow her nonetheless.

She is the first to step through into what looks like a meadow. Her black and white Converse squeak in the lingering silence around us.

I step through the ferns and into the clearing, welcoming the sun on my skin.

'I can't believe I found it again.' She says from somewhere beside me.

I look down to see her smiling brightly.

'You found it again?' I ask her, hoping I am allowed to speak now.

She takes my hand and stands beside me. 'I remember this place. My mother went through a hiking-for-fitness phase and we found this spot together when I was very young.'

I look around, taking in the wildflowers, the endless sea of green grass and looming canopies of trees and ferns. 'So tell me, how did you find it again?'

She shrugs nonchalantly. 'I saw the sunlight back in the forest and wondered if it was the same place. I knew it when we got closer.'

I pull her closer. 'Back there, when you suddenly got mischievous with me?'

She nods a little more coyly. 'Perhaps.'

I smirk, leaning in for a kiss. She turns her head away. 'Uh uh, not yet Mr. Cullen.'

She flits away from me, daring me to chase her.

So I do, naturally. I follow her into the sea of wildflowers where she trips over and lands head first into them.

I fall down beside her. 'Very graceful, Miss Swan.'

She huffs sourly. But then composes herself and pushes me down on my back.

I feel her light body make its way onto my torso as she straddles me. 'I've got you now.'

I roll my eyes. 'You always had me.'

With that, she bends over to place her plump lips upon mine. 'Now I have branded you.'

Feeling flirtatious, I grab her hips and pull her farther into my lap as I sit up to meet her lips again.

And I know something that will just fit perfectly for this moment.

So I lower my lips to her ear.

'_If I profane, with my unworthiest hand,_

_This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this;_

_My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand,_

_To smooth that rough touch, with a tender kiss_.'

She pulls away only to roll her eyes at me. 'You know how pathetic you are, don't you?'

I fain hurt. 'Oh come on, give a guy some slack...'

She turns her smirk into a bright grin as she finishes the famous sonnet.

'_Good pilgrim! You do wrong your hand too much,_

_Which mannerly devotion shows in this;_

_For saints have hands that pilgrims hands do touch,_

_And palm to palm, is holy palmer's kiss._'

I brush my lips with hers. 'You know it just as well as I.'

She nods. 'Of course.'

I pull her closer, basking in her warmth.

'But you're still pathetic.' She laughs as I watch her and the sun bounce off her shiny hair.

'That hurts, you know.' I scoff at her, melodramatically holding my hand over my heart. 'It gets me right here.'

I feel her weight change over me. 'Just shut up, please.'

And with that her lips lock with mine, forcing me back into the bed of flowers.

I don't think about it as she knots her slender fingers through my hair, pulling at the ends.

I groan from the touch. 'Bella...'

'Shhh,' she does it again. 'No talking.'

I comply, pulling her down and on top of my ever-ready and over-heated body. Her soft skin touches mine in the most innocent of places, but it's enough to strike a match in the pits of my stomach.

The feeling spurs me on as I grip her hips, guiding them in a sensual dance over mine.

She catches on quickly and continues the movement without any help from me. I sigh into her hair, running my fingers through it now. 'So beautiful...'

She gently slaps my hand away. 'Do I have to tell you again?'

I bite my lip, enjoying this new Bella. 'No.'

'Good.' She barely rasps out as she quickly unbuttons my shirt and opens it wide.

I am expecting an onslaught of chilling air to attack my chest, but rather Bella's heat shields me from it. So I plunge my face in her hair again, wrapping my fingers around it as she unbuttons her own shirt.

Then within a few seconds, her chest is bare and touching mine. I gasp in surprise, but mostly delight.

She pulls away to see my expression, and as she does so, I take a good look at her.

Bella is even better in the soft sunlight. I could see the curve of her breasts perfectly. The sun touches upon them just like my fingers are aching to.

I don't let anything hold me back as I reach out for her, quite forcefully cupping them in my expectant palms. 'Holy shit.'

She doesn't say anything about my outburst, but rather steadies herself as she moves away to get a hold of my pants.

And then they are gone too, just like hers. We are wrapped in each other now, completely naked.

But there is one thing I want to discuss. We had completely forgotten about it the first time.

I mean, I don't want to knock her up before she graduates.

Maybe a little later though.

'Bella, perhaps we should use...' I didn't get the word in as she attacks my lips.

But eventually she pulls away. 'Pill... I'm on the pill, Edward.'

'Oh.'

She grins, softly pulling my hair again, knowing how much I like it. I can't help but groan again. 'Bella...'

She ignores me, moving onto the hot skin of my chest where she rests her hands in an attempt to steady herself.

I watch up in amazement as her arms push her breasts together in the most enticing way. She stays like this for a moment as she ponders her next move, her eyes flitting between my lips and chest.

I inhale sharply, unable to handle anymore. So I pull her down without warning, and she crashes into my chest. 'Stop teasing me.' I manage to whine.

'I'm not teasing you,' she manages to tease again.

But instead of retaliating, I pull her over me, giving me better access to her pink peaks. I take one into my mouth, running my tongue over it until I could hear her audible gasp.

Then I move to the next as I let me hands wander down to her hips. I grip her wondrous behind as she moves achingly slowly over me.

I could feel her ready for me. All hot, slick and waiting. I groan from the intensity of the friction.

My sounds seem to spur her on, causing her to increase the speed, increase the friction and force her closer. My groans only multiply tenfold.

But she doesn't seem to care as she rocks back and forth on top of me, ensuring that I'm ready for her.

And then in one fowl swoop, she sinks down onto me and completely sheaths my length in her marvellous depths.

I half cry, half whimper at the feeling of her wholly encasing me.

It is the most wonderful feeling.

So I let myself go in it. 'Fuck, Bella.'

I hear her delicate moan as I thrust upwards just a little. But she steadies me, holding me down.

'No, I want you to stay still.' She barely whispers with lidded eyes. 'Just enjoy the show.'

I can't even comprehend it before she releases me and then sinks back down, beginning her lovely friction again.

'Oh, God.' I blurt out again.

So warm. So tight. So perfect.

She barely manages a cocky grin. 'You don't seem very Christian right now.' I watch her as she struggles to speak properly.

'Who said I was Christian?' I try to joke, but it goes unnoticed as she seems to have hit the right spot.

She shivers just a little, digging her nails into the skin of my chest as she bites her lower lip.

Her fingers touching me, is just so electrifying. My pulse reaches overdrive as she grips me, hitting all the right nerve endings.

It feels like too much all at once. If I'm not careful, I'll let go right now and never come back.

But I fight for control.

Doing what she wants of me, I relax back into the bed of flowers and just watch as she bounces up and down on top of me. She still digs her fingers into my chest as she moves, those pink peaks moving in sync with her body.

It is definitely a sight to see, her glorious form above me. But what I really want to see is her face. So I bring my eyes up, careful in stopping them from rolling back into my head.

I watch as her eyes are clenched shut and those round lips have fallen open in the moment. I just want to kiss them.

But I let her be for now, as she rocks back and forth above me, that brow furrowed in concentration.

'Bella...' I ask her, making her open her eyes. I am close now, but I need her to see me.

And she does, letting those glorious irises bore into mine. I need us to fall over the edge together. 'Come for me.'

I watch as those eyes roll backward, but come back to face me again. She grips me harder, jutting her chest out as she does so.

An exquisite moan leaves her lips, filling the heady silence between us.

The sight coupled with the sound is something else. I can't rip my eyes away, not even if I wanted to.

I start to feel the familiar sensations ripple through my body, beginning in the pit of my stomach and ending in my fingertips.

I just let them invade me.

But I hold out just long enough to feel her walls clamp down around me, trembling in their movement as she cries out.

The feeling of her hot depths gripping and letting go of me is enough to push me over the edge.

I hear myself cry out her name as she sheaths me completely for the last time and rides out her own waves of pleasure. 'Fuck, Edward.'

And then I release into her and she shudders above me, coming to rest on my chest.

I'm absolutely breathless.

So I pull her hair away from her face as she lies on me. 'What a way to forget everything.'

She smirks. 'What can I say?'

I laugh at her, watching the way her eyelids gently close.

And then I think of something I had planned earlier. 'I want to take you away this weekend, for a break.'

She opens her eyes and peers up at me. 'Really?'

I nod. 'We can go to Seattle if you want, spend the night somewhere.'

She smiles brightly. 'Yes, definitely. And Alice's mother won't... you know, come to any suspicion.'

I kiss her lightly. 'We'll think of something to tell her.'

I know we will. So I pull her closer and wrap my arms around her, sheltering her from the cold.

Things will get better.

They just have to.

Even if I am her forbidden lover.

**SWEET! So what do you think?**

**corny? sweet? romantic? hot? cold? awful?**

**eh, just let me know!!**

**And, the next two or three chapters are going to be a little lighter for you guys. I hope you don't mind the little distraction from the plot, you know... going to seattle for a break. I think it should be good fun for them... if they can manage sneaking around!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!!!**

**I dont know whether to bother continuing if you dont.**

**xx**


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